Hitokiri Orange Road
by thubar2000
Summary: A timeslipped Kasuga Kyosuke lands in a world that has the Battle Royale Program. Kyosuke, Tendo, and their new companion Umao find a brief respite from the madness during the first night of the deadly program. Kimagure Orange Road x Battle Royale
1. Enter the Asylum

The young man was falling. That he was sure of. His senses were assaulted with events without order and visions without direction. Patterns almost crystallized, but as logic closed on the chain of causality; the thoughts sublimed. Time no longer had meaning after he and his temporally displaced twin had tumbled down the infamous ninety-nine and a half stepped stairwell.

One of us had to go, Kyosuke thought as he tumbled through the back alley of reality.

Hitokiri Orange Road

Chapter 1. Enter the Asylum

Time had stretched and compressed in so many streams, eddies, and pools that Kyosuke no longer knew when the falling began, but the bone jarring impact marked his definite stop.

His confused senses slowly caught up with his plunge. Pain had brought back his touch. He lay on something hard, wet, and cold. The indistinct masses of gray hanging overhead separated into the underbellies of thunderheads and pregnant cumulonimbus clouds. Grainy droplets trickled between his slack lips into his mouth. The freshly fallen rain stank of petrol exhaust.

My name is Kasuga Kyosuke, he thought.

He struggled to rise.

"Damn," he muttered, but it emerged as an indistinct groan.

"I thought that you were dead," a girl's voice announced from somewhere above and behind his head. The voice belonged to a teenaged girl; it sounded tomboyish.

Kyosuke tried to raise his head, but the world began spinning violently. He dropped back into the pooling rain. A fit of coughing racked his body; he curled in pain.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked.

"W-where am I?" Kyosuke groaned through the pain. "What time is it?" he asked before lapsing into unconsciousness.

Kyosuke awoke on a rough woolen cot. Someone had also changed him into boxers and coarse pajamas. He was dry and warm. His nose was stuffed up, and his head throbbed. His throat felt as if it had been perforated with bared razor.

Faint light filtered through the dingy curtain at his feet. A nurse in a white uniform stepped through the curtain. She wore an armband on her left arm. In the lighting, Kyosuke could not make out the words.

"Good evening," the familiar voice said. "You are in the Unity Clinic of the Greater Tokyo Metropolitan Area, Seventeenth Ward. Do not worry, comrade, you will be cared for."

The nurse was young. She had a broad face. Her hair was tidily pinned back beneath her white cap. Her voice was pitched higher; it was a pleasant voice.

"Comrade?" Kyosuke asked.

The nurse brought out her clipboard.

"Your name, please."

"Kasuga Kyosuke."

"Address and Vocational Registration."

Kyosuke gave his addresss. She paused before writing it down.

"What is an Vocational Registration?" he asked.

She looked at him critically.

"Are you sure about the address?" she asked. "I believe that there's is a government office there. Vocational registration, surely you know what your fifteen-digit ID number is. Everyone has it, unless you are _burakumin_. Even then, you should know that the Great Leader strives for your equality."

_Barukumin_? Grave diggers and beggars, Kyosuke thought with distaste. Though his head hurt, it was racing. This did not look like his world. Even a quick glance around him reminded him of Reconstruction Era pictures from his social studies textbook. And there was certainly no Great Leader in Japan. North Korea had that distinct honor the last that he had heard.

A chill ran through his spine as he realized that he had nothing: no family, no home, not even an identity to call his own. There was no way for him to prove that he was Kasuga Kyosuke. The student ID and video shop membership card meant nothing here. A cold sweat began to gather on his brow and back.

"Comrade?" she asked.

He looked at here as he rasped his dried lips with his equally dried tongue.

"Even if I wasn't _burakumin_, I might as well be now," he answered carefully.

Satisfied with his answer, she scribbled onto the clipboard.

"Now can I have a drink of water, please," Kysoske croaked.

"Certainly, Mr. Kasuga," the nurse answered before bustling back through the curtain.

She returned with a cup of broth. He burned the his tongue as he drank the weak soup and devour a several tasteless saltines. Her gaze stopped him from considering seconds. He took a white tablet with lukewarm water. The tablet nudged back him to sleep.

Kyosuke woke up feeling better. He needed to pee. A pair of styrofoam flip-flops sat at the side of the cot. They looked used, but he pushed his feet into them; the only other choice was to walk around barefoot. He skirted around the dirty curtain. Ceiling panels were broken, and a bare bulb hung from the ceiling. Brown stains ran down the walls.

Kyosuke walked through the open doorway. He found the latrine by smell. He looked up the hallway, but saw no other facility, so he braved the full-bodied stench of caked urine and backed up sewage. Kyosuke felt sick when he emerged.

His hands itched from washing in the icy brown trickle. The faucet handle had been a rusted crescent wrench clamped to a hexnut.

Loud coughs greeted Kyosuke as returned to his cot. The coughs became a continuous moist hacking. For long moments, he stood listening to the tortured sound before shoving the grungy wall of cloth aside.

The painful racket had prepared Kyosuke for an old derelict with toothless gums and liver spotted skin. Instead, a pale-skinned youth lay in a cot. Bags hung beneath his eyes and his limbs were sickly thin, but his fine features still held a feminine grace. The boy was fourteen at most. The pain glazed gaze drifted aimlessly. The boy quaked with another round of shotgun coughing.

"Shut up!" called a coarse voice from across the room.

Kyosuke touched a frail arm.

"Hold on," Kyosuke said. "I'll get help."

The youth tilted his head slightly. Though weak from coughing, he murmured something.

Kyosuke leaned close enough to smell the crusted filth from the boy. He could feel the fevered heat. The boy repeated himself.

"I don't want to die," the boy said.

"Don't say that," Kyosuke ordered desperately. A part of him wanted to run away and stay away, but another voice spoke. What would Ayukawa think? He could imagine her glaring at him. With the image of the blossoming woman fixed in his mind, he shakily rose from the cot side. She smiled encouragingly.

"I'll get help. You're going to be okay," he said, mustering all conviction, though it didn't feel like enough. He left the room at a brisk stride.

Kyosuke passed the disgusting lavatory and walked on. Now was not the time to be afraid, though his heart knocked in his chest.

I don't want to die. The boy should be up and about, ready to take his exams or sit in on his welcoming ceremony joking with his friends, not laid up on a cot, Kyosuke thought in a jumble.

The corridor was lined with room after room of dirty blue curtains. Weak sunlight filtered through the cloth, filling the hallway with a melancholy hue. Some patients gave groans of pain. Sometimes he smelled rotten meat. There was not a single nurse or attendant in sight. Kyosuke reached a bend in the corridor. An old man swabbed at the tiled floor with brown water. The mop smeared the grime from one cracked tile to another.

"Excuse me, uncle," Kyosuke greeted the old man politely.

"Uncle, who's your uncle?" the man groused with his smoke scarred voice.

"Do you know where I can find a nurse or a doctor?"

"Shouldn't be up," the janitor said curtly. The blue clad man turned away and continued to mop.

"Where's their office?" Kyosuke asked again with a nervous twitter.

He approached the janitor. After a scant step, the teen stopped as the old man swung up the mop like a lance. The old man fixed his bloodshot eyes on Kyosuke.

"Stay back, I don't know what you've got. Stay back," the man rasped.

"Easy," Kyosuke said as he backed away. Several steps away, he turned from the glaring janitor and picked up his pace. The encounter left him apprehensive as he reached a flight of stairs. Rust spotted the concrete steps like open open sores. A plastic sheet covered a small window; shards of broken glass clung to the frame.

A closed door stood at the top of the stair. It was unmarked. Kyosuke rapped soundly on the hollow wood. He faced silence for a few moments, before knocking louder.

"You're not supposed to be there, please return to your room," a gray-haired woman called to him from down the hall.

"Excuse me, but there's a boy, he's really sick," Kyosuke said.

"Of course he's sick, if he weren't, he wouldn't be here," the nurse said flatly.

"Naw we're here 'cuz we love you," an inmate heckled from a doorway. Eyes peered from up and down the hall.

"That's enough out of you," the formidable nurse stated without turning around. "Now, why are you wandering around?"

"The boy in the bed next to me started coughing and wouldn't stop," Kyosuke answered. "Can you go help him?"

"Where are you?" the nurse asked.

"The floor below at the end of the corridor."

"Not my area," the nurse answered. She pulled a key on a chain from the front of her blouse. The woman put the key into the doorknob.

Kyosuke stood frozen for a moment. The words had not registered until he heard the dead bolt click open.

"Hold on," he demanded. He sprang forward and grabbed her by the shoulder. She gave an ear splitting scream into his face. Surprised, he let go. The nurse jerked away with surprising speed and managed to slip through the door before he could react. Sharp footsteps pounded around the corner. Kyosuke considered running, but he had to get help. The boy frantically continued pounding on the door. He shouted through the door, though he saw a guard in gray charged around the corner.

The stout man grabbed Kyosuke by the corner of his gown. The guard gave a snarl as he slung Kyosuke to the ground. The boy instinctively curled he saw the sole of the gaurd's boot from below. The guard stopped as the door jerked open.

"Stop!" Nurse Tendo shouted. The young woman emerged with her short hair in a disarray. A hatch pattern of red lines were imprinted on the side her face. Her hands fumbled as they pinned her white cap into place. "Mr. Kasuga, what are you doing here?"

Kyosuke peered up at the halted boot, which cautiously dropped to the ground. The glaring guard patted his billy club in his hand.

"The boy next to me, he might be dying," Kyosuke stammered to the nurse.

The teenaged nurse looked down the corridor as the wan morning light trickled through a grated window.

"Crap," the nurse spat.

She rushed into the room and picked up a satchel before taking down the stair. The guard followed quickly. Kyosuke followed her down the stairs and back down the long corridor. Footfalls echoed in the empty halls. Window after window passed as did identical doorways. The dim corridor seemed endless. A wet coughing called to them, growing louder.

At the end of the corridor, two other scraggly patients waited at the doorway.

"Excuse me," Nurse Tendo said as she sped past them.

She paused at the edge of the room to pull on a mask. The guard stopped short of entering, but Kyosuke marched resolutely through the curtains. His stomach heaved as he saw the speckles and splotches of blood sprayed onto the mustard curtains. The cot beside the boy's bed was soaked black. Tears trickled down the sick boy's white cheeks.

"Stay back," Akane ordered Kyosuke. She turned back to her patient. She opened her satchel. "Call the doctor," she ordered the guard.

Akane froze as the bedridden boy grabbed her shoulder. Kasuga stepped forth and took the haggard hand in his own. The skin and muscles felt like raw dough.

"Hang on," Kyosuke pleaded.

At that moment, it felt important that the boy would live. Kyosuke willed it with all his strength. He had no Power into which he could cast his strength, so he prayed, but all he heard was the choked breathing. Even on his knees, he could not think of any words to block out the feeble coughs or even anyone to pray to. The hand had been so weak that Kyosuke refused to believe that it had gone limp.

He only believed it when Nurse Tendo spoke quietly to the guard.

"Don't bother, tell the doctor not to bother."

With a gentle touch, Tendo Akane pulled him away from the still hand.

* * *

Kasuga Kyosuke leaned disconsolately on the chipped stairs. The sixteen year old was of average height and on the slight side. His hair was just shy of needing a haircut. The ill-matched shoes pitched the little toe on his left foot and chafed his heel on the right foot. Nurse Tendo managed to find slacks streaked with off-white paint and an ochre pullover. 

Evening fell. From the front stairs of the clinic, he could see tall smoke stacks spewing thick smoke into the horizon. The stench of rotten eggs suffused the air. The city that was ruled and mitered into ugly rows of block houses. Dingy gray bordered dingy gray in a relentless repetition of house and street. There was no green.

He saw where his house was supposed to be. A broad three story building squatted in the place of the familiar condominium.

Where do I go from here? Kasuga thought. He had dodged the thought as long as he could, but he could not escape his situation. They had returned his wallet with a warning about counterfeit money. The guard had explained that he would not get in any trouble because the bills in his wallet were obvious fakes.

His mind was drained. He forced the scene of the younger boy's corpse from his mind. He could be wearing the boy's shirt, he thought with a shiver.

"What do I do now?" Kasuga asked.

"Whatever you feel like," Tendo's tired voice said from behind him. She had taken off her uniform. The girl wore an unflattering olive coat over a dun dress. She was a full head shorter than he was. The face was broad, and the skin was snug over the bone

He gave her a weak smile.

"I wish that I knew what that was."

"What's wrong with you?" the teenaged girl demanded. "Anyone idiot could see that he had TB. You could be infected. Why did you run in there? Did you know him?"

Kasuga was surprised by the anger in her eyes and the clenched fists.

"I'm not sure why I ran in there," Kasuga answered slowly. "But I couldn't just leave him like that. I didn't know him. But he was old enough to be my classmate."

"I thought that you said that you were a burakumin," she said suspiciously.

"I said that I might as well be one," he said.

"You're a strange one," the girl concluded. She had relaxed her tone and stance. "275, 58, 64," she added.

"What?" Kasuga asked blankly.

"Where you're supposed to go. You sound like you're from around here."

"Honestly, I don't know what that means."

She sighed. "275th ward, 58th North street, 6th East street. There'll be a sign for the 275th ward workhouse. Over there," she said pointing in the distance. "If you start walking now, you can make it before midnight."

Right, Kasuga reminded himself, he had no money for bus fare.

"It's getting dark, let me walk you to your bus," he offered.

"Bus?" she exclaimed. Her eyebrows shot up. "No bus has run around here for years."

"S-sorry," Kasuga stammered. "Then you're going to walk?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Then I'll walk with you."

"I can take care of myself, besides the biggest threat might be you," Tendo challenged. She strode away from him. "Good night, Mr. Kasuga, if that's your real name. Get yourself to the workhouse before it gets too dark."

Kyosuke looked over the uninviting city below and then at the tired girl. He began walking after her.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded without breaking stride. "You won't get any charity from me."

"You're a girl-"

"That's right," she said gruffly, twirling around. She gritted her teeth. Even in his tired stated, Kasuga noted that anger brought a spark into her features. She was cute when she was angry.

"And girls shouldn't walk home alone in the dark," he explained.

"You're weird, and if you try anything weird, I can take care of myself," she said holding up a fist.

"What's your name?" Kasuga asked as he caught up with her. "My name really is Kasuga Kyosuke."

"Tendo, Tendo Akane," she answered before walking away again. Her shoulders were set stiffly.

Akane kept at least three steps between them. Kasuga did not close the distance. Though he was tired and his feet began to hurt, he kept up.

The curved necked street lamps stayed dark, easing the monotonous ugliness of the buildings. The cracked sidewalk retained puddles of rain water. They detoured a block to skirt a small lake of runoff. The road was in similar disrepair. Only a single truck passed. At most, one in ten windows shed dim light. Their footfalls were the only sounds in the night.

By an alley, a clatter startled Kyosuke. Bright eyes glared at him from the top of a dumpster. It looked like a cat until it bounded away. By the faint moonlight, he could see the rat's worm-like tail.

"They're spreading. They used to only be found by the warehouse district, but they've found a home in the abandoned houses," Akane said from his side.

"Abandoned?"

"There aren't enough people."

The girl began moving again, but waited a moment. She let him fall into stride with her this time, though she remained out of comfortable arm's reach.

At each corner was a brief sign that listed a single number.

When she stopped, evening had slipped into night. A dimly lit and stocky lamp sat a street corner. Kyoske stopped with her. She took two steps more and turned to face him.

"I'll be fine from here," she said.

"Well, then good night," he said.

"You're a strange one."

"So you've said," Kyoske replied with a tired smile. He realized that she was waiting to see him leave. She didn't want him to see where she actually lived.

"Good night," he said. He walked the way that he had come.

"Take a left at the next street, and keep walking. It'll bring you to the 275th Ward," she shouted after him. "And don't forget the paperwork I gave you."

Kyosuke waved a hand in thanks.

More litter cluttered the streets the buildings grew closer together. Broken bottles, broken windows, rusted bikes frames accumulated with other debris as he approached the address that Nurse Tendo had given to him. Paper plastered the ground in an unclean mosaic. The street stank of spoiled sake and greasy food.

Step by step, the night became brighter and louder. Light spilled from open doors. Drunken men reeled into the streets. Kyosuke kept his shoulders hunched and his head down. Their worn clothes and boots were little better than his, but they still spat at him. Derelicts slept under newspaper. Other ragged men wandered cadging for change.

He tried not to look at the painted women on the street corners. He blushed at their low cut clothes. They still made offers in crude voices. No money, he replied. One gap-toothed woman trailed him, asking him if he needed a job.

"With a cute face like that, you could make some good money," she said with saccharine sweetness. Her breath was rank with rotgut. She looked hard and worn beneath her makeup.

The whore pinched on his butt when he didn't answer, and the corner filled with crowing laughter. Kyosuke scampered away, but kept to his path, clinging to the vague promise of shelter.

The streets were empty near the block-long workhouse. The doors of the workhouse were locked. He pounded on the door, but no one answered. Quickly, the boy looked around. There was no one about.

Time for a little Power, he thought.

Kyosuke focused on himself. The effort stabbed into his brain. With a grunt, Kyosuke willed himself to the top of the building. He teleported. The vacuum left by his translocation drew in a swirl of winds and damp wrappers.

His sneakers slipped as they struck smooth gravel. There was no one else on the rooftop. He sheltered from the chill breeze behind the stair shaft. He felt a weary triumph at still being able to use the Power. Exhausted, he curled into a ball and fell asleep to the asthmatic wheeze of the rooftop fan.

* * *

Revised 3 April 05 


	2. Orange Band of Daily Life

Hitokiri Orange Road

Chapter 2.

Orange Armband of Daily Life

The first days were the toughest. After awakening on the cold roof, he had been given paperwork to fill out for other paperwork, sent from a bureaucrat with luxuriant ear hair to one with liver spots on his bald head to one who was immaculately dressed and back again. The first one worked slowly, the second worked slower, and the third worked slowest.

"Good. day. Mr. Kyosuke. Do. you. have. form. 2-A-6-1-J-3-6-9?" the third paper pusher asked.

Hunger wracked him. Only the cold distracted him from his hunger until his feet began to hurt in his poorly made shoes. The bureaucrats gave him an orange armband to wear around his right arm; it marked him as burakumin. Kyosuke reluctantly pinned it into place. After his work papers were straightened, he trekked to the the industrial sector.

He was not sure how he walked the distance. The air turned foul. Kyosuke began to cough as his eyes watered.

He was assigned to a slaughtering and canning factory. The sound and heat were awesome. The air stank of rancid fat and old blood. His manager, a portly man named Arisawa, showed him the operation. The early shift slaughtered and the next shift cleaned. The canning ran day and night. After a brief tour, Kyosuke moved crates. It was the hardest four hours of his life. He worked with an old man, who worked at Kyosuke's asthmatic pace. When the shift whistle rang, he was so sore that it hurt to breathe.

Dinner was a small bowl of brown rice with pickled vegetables and miso soup. He devoured it hungrily. Kyosuke was given a small locker and a bottom bunk. Since he did not have any clothes to change into, he slept in his dirty clothes.

The shift whistle blew during in the dark. Arisawa shook him out of bed. His manager was surprisingly good natured about Kyosuke's sluggishness. Arisawa surprised him further by ordering him to go to school for a single period, homeroom, and then coming back. The Great Leader required all school aged children to report for attendance.

* * *

Kyosuke felt embarrassed by his shabby clothes and greasy hair and face. Gray clouds continued to hang overhead. He half wished that it would rain to wash some of the grime off of him. He walked hunched, with his hands under his arms for warmth. The thin rice porridge surged up to the back of his throat several times. The concrete clock tower and blocky building was his Koryo High School. The students wore familiar black tunics and sailor suits. 

Manami and Kurumi might be there or this world's versions of them. Would they recognize him? What about himself, would there be another Kasuga Kyosuke? What about Ayukawa? Hikaru? The questions bolstered his hopes, until he approached the school gates. The black uniformed students stared at him. When he turned, they looked away or challenged him threateningly. He thought that it was his appearance, until he noticed that their eyes always flicked to his orange armband and then his face. Half-familiar faces hardened into masks.

Silence hung around him in suffocating thickness. Kyosuke hurried to the front desk, where a secretary assigned him to a homeroom. She ignored him when he thanked her. He was late for homeroom. The homeroom teacher looked the same as his old one. Kyosuke still looked on with apprehension; he did not this man. The teacher had the same part in his hair and wireframe glasses, but Kyosuke had never seen the teacher's lips curled in such pure disgust.

"Hey you," the teacher said rudely. "What's your name?"

"Kasuga Kyosuke," Kasuga answered with a bow.

"You will address me with respect."

"Sir."

"We weren't told that we would have your kind here."

"I was assigned here, sir."

"Fine, just keep quiet. And what's that smell? Don't you know how to bathe?" chuckles filled the room.

Kyosuke's face flushed in shame. "I work in a slaughter house, sir."

"Whatever, just move a desk to the far wall."

Kyosuke's heart rose when he saw a familiar head of curled hair and his portly sidekick.

"Komatsu! Hatta!" the names burst from his lips.

Gasps erupted from the class.

"Do you know him?" the teacher demanded.

"Never!" Komatsu answered hotly. "I've never seen him in my life."

"Me neither," Hatta added.

Kyosuke stumbled back a step from their vehemence. The teacher struck slapped him to the back of his head.

"Apologize then," the teacher commanded.

Kyosuke's mouth worked uselessly like a fish's. The teacher repeated his command. Kyosuke looked around at his classmates. They returned his searching look with a uniform hatred. He flinched under the stare. With a dry mouth, he bowed deeply.

"I am very sorry, and must have been mistaken," Kyosuke announced.

"That's not good enough," the teacher said, seizing his ear. Kyosuke gritted his teeth. "Again."

Kyosuke suppressed the urge to rub his ear. The only lower bow was the kowtow. For a moment, he wanted to resist. He felt the pressure building in his mind to lash back at them, until he met their collectively cold eyes again. Like a pack of wild dogs, they could pounce. No one would blame them. Alone and surrounded, he fell face down to the ground.

"I am truly sorry, and must have been gravely mistaken. Please forgive my unworthy self!" Kyosuke said.

Komatsu and Hatta snickered. Kyosuke felt betrayed.

"A little better, now go in the corner before you stink up the class."

Kyosuke was relieved to slink out after everyone else had left and go back to the factory where he was merely anonymous.

* * *

At work, the other factory hands made neither an effort to include nor exclude him. It did not bother Kyosuke who barely had enough energy to clean himself and his uniform before dropping off for the night. Arisawa pointed out a used clothing store where he found some warm clothes. The manager lent him some powder to get rid of the fleas. 

Kyosuke was assigned to cleaning the loading and slaughter pens. He gagged on the scent of blood and feces, but he tied strips of cloth around his face and head and went through with the cleaning. There was nothing else to be done about it. His system grew acclimated to even that stench. The weeks flew by in a haze of weary routine. When fall gave way to winter, each shift began and ended in the dark of night. Frost rimed the barrack windows.

The workers slept in a converted warehouse. Bunk beds lined the walls. Arisawa scheduled Sunday as their laundry and cleaning days. He ran a tight run ship. Kyosuke adapted to the daily labor and the cold nights. He learned to chew his food slowly and followed the other workers and spent the late part of Sunday haunting the closest bakery for day-olds and pound cake crusts. Vegetable stalls yielded bruised produce for discounts. Each yen and ration coupon counted

After the first few days, Kyosuke came to an uneasy truce with his classmates. He sacrificed a few precious minutes of sleep to arrive at homeroom early. The teacher would call his name with a disparaging remark and move onto the next name.

Kyosuke bore his daily dose of hostility by daydreaming. Each day, he hopefully looked at the empty seat by the window. The position matched Ayukawa's seat in his own time stream. He imagined her flowing black hair, cream-smooth skin, and spicy sweet scent. The distant days at the beach became inlaid with golden sunlight. Sometimes, he dreamed of simply being in the park next to his home. The grass was fragrant. He almost reach up to the light shining between the green leaves and touch the slivers of blue sky caught between. He was afraid to move until the harsh bell broke the silence.


	3. Chancy Days

Hitokiri Orange Road

Chapter 3. Chancy Days

In late November, student riots had stopped the city. The government had posted a the New Regulation for the Preservation of Youth Discipline and Future Prosperity or the Fuhrer Fives. Fliers had appeared on the the walls of the abandoned house, street corners, and store fronts. The police walked their beats instead off huddling around their heaters.

Five youths (defined as 19 years and younger) may congregate at one place.

Five o'clock in the afternoon is the curfew, unless accompanied by an adult in good standing with the Bureau of public safety.

Five zones is the maximum transit distance in one day. The zones have been designated by the Board for Transportation and Urban Planning.

Five thousand yen is the maximum expenditure by a youth per day.

Five years, from the second year of middle school to the last year of high school, shall be the new span in which participants in the program will be chosen.

This law is effective immediately. Special permits can be obtained from the appropriate government body to gain variance from rules 1-4.

The bland bureaucratic speak only meant more paperwork for Kyosuke, which he duly filled out and filed in triplicate. The local officials made the mistake of throwing together a rally to support the new law. Students and student gangsters, who rarely showed for class, arrived with a different rally in mind and exploded in violence. The thousand of angry bodies overwhelmed the police with rocks and Molotov cocktails. Sympathy protests began at the college campuses. Kyosuke had been excused from the official rally for work.

Hours after it had started, Arisawa had carried a small black and white TV into the lunchroom. A woman reported in a tinny voice that the major arteries had been blocked by heaps of burning tires and debris. Coarse black smoke rose to meet the full clouds. Angry students threw themselves at a shield wall of armored riot police. Sweaty officials trotted before the cameras to mumble canned speeches.

School was canceled. The delivery trucks stopped delivering, and the factory fell silent. The quiet and inactivity was refreshing to Kyosuke for the first few days, but he soon became restless. During the stillness, his dreams were full of running. He awoke sweaty and breathless as if sprinting in ground churning heats. It struck the boy as strange. He had never been athletic or enjoyed sports much. Kyosuke supposed that the stillness had made him restless.

Kyosuke was not the only restless one. Eighty idle men could not fit into rooms made for forty. Arguments broke out over chairs and tempers rose until a scuffle broke out over an old mechanical journal. On the third day, the manager ordered the day shift off the factory grounds.

Kyosuke trudged with a somber group headed to the outskirts of town. Only a few bodies were outdoors. Every few minutes, the group stopped for a squad of black garbed riot police to jog by. It took twice as long as usual to reach the bars.

The clouds broke and the rain poured down in cold sheets. The droplets were gritty with ash. Kyosuke darted for the closest shop, but was rejected by the crush of bodies. A second store was similarly flooded. The polluted rain stung his eyes. Kyosuke ran down the street with his jacket pulled over his head. The soaked boy found shelter beneath a the eave of a store. He shivered from the cold. A thickset woman opened the door. She focused immediately on his armband.

"No loitering," she snarled. "Shoo."

"I'm not doing anything," Kyosuke answered in a surly tone.

"Beat it, before I call the police," the woman threatened. Contempt was plain on her face.

Kyosuke saw a patrol approaching from the end of the street and retreated. He jerked the shabby coat over his head. The left arm gave a sharp retort and tore. Disgusted, he stalked back into the rain. He hadn't reached a half of a block before a voice called from several doors down. It was barely audible above the hissing rain. He located the source of the voice down a stair; a young woman stood outlined in an open doorway full of warm yellow light.

"Hey mister!" she called. "It's drier down here."

The boy hurried down the slippery stairs. The speaker was a young woman with a round face that seemed familiar. A apron clinched neatly around the waitress's narrow waist. She wore a green polyester American army shirt knotted to expose smooth white skin above her khakis. Her hair was neatly clipped a finger's width below the nape of her neck. She smelled faintly of perspiration; it was not a bad scent. Kyosuke waited at the doorway, expecting a reaction to the band on his arm.

"Get in, already," the waitress urged warmly.

Her voice was fresh and mildly husky. She closed the steel door, which cut off the sound of police boots passing by. Kyosuke picked his way over a newspaper path to a bathroom. Finding no paper towels, he wrung his shirt and jacket into the sink. He used his Power to drive away the moisture from his undershirt and pants. He left the bathroom exuding steam. The effort made him dizzy.

The boy made his way to the closest corner seat. The thin waitress took his order of beer and octopus puffs. She smiled and left. Kyosuke's eyes followed her around the room. Her presence made him ache for glossy magazines, television, and even shampoo ads. The pale five inches of exposed back and bony spine mesmerized him. He broke off his stare once he noticed that the other patrons tracked her movements. His orange band was reason enough to pick a fight. There were several other patrons, but the room was mostly empty.

The octopus puffs were hot and greasy. Kyosuke devoured the first one quickly, and then slowed. Constant hunger had taught him how to stretch out each meal. When he finished, he took in his surroundings. The bar was neat and orderly. For the first time since landing in that world, he felt peace.

A short time later, a small man in a trench coat entered with his umbrella lowered. He walked behind the bar and hung his coat and umbrella on a rack. He drew a grid on a blackboard and filled the boxes with numbers and names.

The other patrons migrated near the bar. A steady stream of bodies came in from the street, turning the newsprint into a soggy mat. The newcomers took the remaining stools and filled the nearby tables. The crowd had grown to thirty or so men. They debated in lively voices as the white belly slipped between their dark overcoats. Smoke filled the room. The crowd fell silent as a radio switched on.

Kyosuke sipped his way through his first beer. After checking the thin fold of bills in his pocket, he ordered a second.

"What's going on?" Kyosuke asked the waitress.

"Oh that, it's just the horses," she said. She flashed him a grin that included a crooked tooth. "They're listening to short wave from Hong Kong."

"What's with the numbers?"

"They're setting the odds. Why don't you try it yourself?" she asked. "If you win, you could get a girl something nice. And I'm a girl if you haven't noticed," she said with a wink.

"I noticed," Kyosuke replied, but she'd already turned to another patron.

Kyosuke wondered at his comment. Kyosuke did not remember being so forward, but women were far and few between. He brushed his words aside, the waitress probably heard far more each day. Kyosuke walked to the far side of the room. Two men at a nearby table clutched slips of paper. The announcer rattled names and positions in a breathless stream.

"Aberdeen's Landing is coming down the final stretch. She's three lengths ahead of War Chariot and then it's Moped, Green Valley, and Galleon. War Chariot is gaining. And it's AberDEEN's LANDING keeps the lead and finishes first. War Chariot follows with Green Valley, Moped, and Galleon coming in."

Both men tore the slips of paper with curses. They drained their glasses and rose to queue for the next bets. The broadcast switch to the sound of the crowd and the rumbling of hooves. As Kyosuke heard the galloping, he remembered his dreams of running and fresh turf.

Kyosuke studied the board and debated on whether to trust the dream. In the past, they had become significant. His hand dropped to his pocket. The thin fold of bills nearly convinced him to head out, but a whoop of joy jarred his thoughts. A heavyset man in a shapeless beret displayed his ticket to the crowd and cashed it with a flourish. He then toasted with the waitress. Their arms crossed as they swallowed down their drinks. Her young face flushed a pretty pink. She planted a resounding kiss his cheek to the cat calls of the crowd. Kyosuke felt a hot surge of jealousy. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

The young man stood at a lost in front of the bookie. The short man asked for his bet, and grew impatient at repeating himself. The waitress cut in.

"He's new," she explained.

"Still that doesn't mean that he can hold up the line," the bookie said.

Kyosuke nearly backed down, but solid presence of the waitress bolstered his pride. He could smell bourbon on her breath. "I'm thinking," he retorted.

"Minimum bet is 200 yen. Just pick a lucky number or two if you feel like it," the waitress said pointing at the board. "Or you can go by name or colors. Good luck, and don't forget me if you win," she said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd.

Left alone with the bookie, Kyosuke was flustered. His inner eye saw the churning runner with a blaze of bright color sitting on the saddles. Kyosuke named a pair of number from his dream induced instincts. The bookie shrugged and issued the ticket. Kyosuke retreated from the bar. He felt foolish and wanted to leave, but found the idea of wasting money distasteful. The announcer rattled off the race in the breathless stream that he had called out the previous race. Kyosuke could not follow the blurted names. He searched the slate for the matching katakana.

Kyosuke was not surprise so much as relieved that his premonition was right. He made his way to the bar again to show the ticket. The bookie froze with his jaw open. The cigarette in his hand burned unnoticed as his jaw worked dumbly.

"What's the matter?" Kyosuke asked.

The waitress looked around his shoulder. She gasped and double checked the board.

"Flustered Love and Romeo," she read aloud. "Twenty to one and eight to one."

The bookie pulled out a palm-sized abacus to calculate the winnings. Sweat stood out on his forehead. Kyosuke felt thirty pairs of eyes on his back. Kyosuke jumped as the door boomed open. All eyes turned to the disturbance. The stench of burning flooded into the room. Though it was another Japan, Kyosuke immediately recognized the white surgical masks, boots, suicide squad jackets worn by the high schoolers; it was a girl gang. He also recognized a long-haired figure; his heart pounded hard in his chest as his mouth dried like droplets under the desert sun. He had no doubt that it was her. As she raked the room, their eyes locked. Kasuga found himself meeting Ayukawa Madoka one more time.


	4. The Calm

_Summary: Kasuga Kyosuke is a teenage psychic from a prosperous 1980s Japan. He has the power to travel through time and dimensions when he trips down stairs. This ability is unreliable at best. During one of his misadventures, the indecisive and well-meaning boy brought two versions of himself into being. One of these versions was lost down another stair trip in time._

_This is the story of the lost twin who trips into the Democratic Republic of Japan. This alternate Japan is ruled by a fascist dictatorship. The DRJ uses the Program, which is also known as the Battle Royale Program, for its own mysterious purposes._

_An alternate version of Madoka, who he longed for in his world, exists in this parallel universe. Madoka is an unreformed rebel who joined the protests against the new restrictions that the government has placed on the youth, which includes extending the eligibility period for the deadly Program. Madoka and a youth gang that participated in the protest have fled into a bar to hide from the police. _

_Kyosuke had ducked into the bar earlier to avoid the rain. As chance or perhaps fate would have it, he tried betting on a horse race and received a flash of precognition. Right after winning big, Madoka re-enters his life._

**Hitokiri Orange Road**

Chapter 4. The Calm

The patrons stared at the girls in their long suicide squad jackets. One of the gang member leaned against the arms of a comrade. Ayukawa Madoka eyes scanned the room suspiciously. Kyosuke's breath constricted. He had thought of her and had dreamed of her, grasping desperately at each detail, but had little real hope of meeting her again. He was paralyzed. The waitress broke the impasse by approaching the gang.

"Madoka," the waitress greeted the girl at the front of the gang.

"Nabiki," Madoka began. "No, Mz. Tendo-"

"Nabiki is fine," the waitress corrected her. "Did anyone follow you?"

"I'm not sure," Madoka answered.

The wounded gang member doubled over in pain. It took all of her willpower to keep from screaming out. Dark droplets of blood dripped onto the floor. Nabiki steered the girls through the crowd. The patrons silently parted for the girls, until the bar's Master stood in her way.

"Hold on, Nabiki," the bartender protested. "I don't want any trouble here."

"She's hurt," Nabiki protested. Nabiki bit her lip and looked around for support.

Kyosuke caught Madoka's anxious look at the door. They needed a distraction. He pulled the wad of bills that the pale bookie proffered him.

"Master," Kyosuke interrupted. "Would this buy a few rounds for the house?"

"What?" the master asked dumbfounded.

Nabiki caught Kyosuke's look. She pulled the sheaf of bills from his hands. She made a great show of kissing the bills and then stuffing it into the cup of her lacy bra. She went behind the bar, began pouring drafts, and handed the glasses out. "Cigars?" she asked Kyosuke.

"Whatever the money'll buy!" Kyosuke announced with false bravado. He punched his fist in the air for emphasis.

"Hey, Master," Nabiki said with false cheer. She pulled out a box of cheap stogies and plugged one into Kyosuke's mouth and then the barkeeper's. "I think that you have some customers who want their drinks. Let's get pouring."

Nabiki exchange a few quick words with Madoka. Madoka took one arm of the wound girl and pressed her way through a doorway. The bookie and bartender backed out of her way. Kyosuke didn't blame them. He could not match that stare anymore than he could stare down an oncoming train. Kyosuke followed in their wake as the patrons swarmed the bar for free beer. They bypassed a small kitchen, where a harried cook took down Nabiki's rapid fire orders, and headed up a set of stairs.

The stairs opened to a storage room. The cheap blinds were drawn shut. Madoka laid down her jacket on a pallet and helped the young woman onto makeshift bed. She barked orders at the other three high school gangsters. They leapt into action and began mopping their messy trail. They threw their jackets aside and tied their t-shirts up to emulate Nabiki's belly-baring look. Their fit and feminine bodies drove Kyosuke to distraction. After cleaning off the worse of the ash at a sink, the three trooped back downstairs. Meanwhile, Madoka had found a first aid kit.

"And for God's sake, let Tendo do the talking!" Madoka snapped after them.

Madoka had shed her face mask. She worked quickly and methodically. Kyosuke switched on an overhead light. Underneath Madoka's cool exterior, he knew that she was worried.

"Is there anything I can do?" Kyosuke asked.

Madoka handed him a pair of latex gloves, which he slipped on.

"Put your hand here," Madoka pointed at a cut at the side of the woman's belly. "And just put pressure on the gauze."

The short-haired woman gasped in pain as Madoka tended to another hurt.

"Damn," she cursed in a tobacco scarred voice. "Knew we shouldn't have trusted those prats from W. Tech, they turned on us at the first opportunity."

"They got taken in, too," Madoka replied wearily. "I don't think that the government is cutting any deals."

"Serves them right," the wounded woman snarled.

"Try not to talk Oryuu," Madoka said. "This is going to hurt."

Madoka moved Kyosuke's hand with a firm motion. Madoka bandaged the wound. Kyosuke turned his back when Madoka wrapped Oryuu's hurt ribs, which were probably not broken. By the time she was finished, Oryuu's looked mummified. Kyosuke washed himself off as Madoka cleaned up the space.

"Can I get you anything, Miss Oryuu?" Kyosuke asked.

"Miss Oryuu," the woman teased. "You sound fresh out of farm country. Get me my jacket."

Kyosuke handed the suicide jacket to the woman. Oryuu ran a hand roughly through her short hair. Her face was pale. The gang leader had an angular and handsome face. She snorted out a curse as she crushed an empty wrapper of Lucky Strikes. She flicked her zippo lighter on and off. Ayukawa returned with a paper cup of tap water. Oryuu took a sip before waving it away and then she noticed the cigar still in Kyosuke's mouth.

"Are you going to smoke that?"

"I have a name, it's Kasuga Kyosuke," he mentioned as transferred the stogy to her hand. "And they aren't any good for you."

"You should speak to her with more respect!" Ayukawa snapped from behind him. Her words cut him.

"Hey, this could be considered an indirect kiss," Oryuu joked.

Kyosuke's hands flew to his mouth. He glanced at Ayukawa, who didn't react to the comment. This young woman wasn't his Ayukawa, but the voice and everything else seemed alike.

"Oryuu, be serious," Ayukawa said. "He could be working for the government."

"Madoka, I am being serious," the short-haired woman responded. "I don't think he's acting. I think that he really is a hick, who did us a big favor. Kasuga, My name is Oryuu and this is Madoka, also known as Madoka the Pick."

Kyosuke nodded in response. Oryuu studied him closely while puffing on the cigar.

"What he did wasn't that great," Madoka challenged. "Throwing around money like that.

"Where do you think he got money from," she added with a twisted smile. "Who did you sell out? Or is your father a government bigwig?"

"Neither," Kyosuke answered with a voice that was calmer than he felt. "I got the money from a bet, that's all."

They heard voices come from the floor below. It was the police, demanding to search the upstairs. Oryuu spat out a curse. Madoka turned off the light, snatched the cigar from Oryuu's lips and stubbed out the smoke against the ground.

"We've been found," Oryuu urged. "Get out of here, go out the back!"

"It's probably guarded," Madoka argued. "I'm not leaving you here."

Footfalls echoed loudly up the stairs. Kyosuke put his hand lightly against Madoka's shoulder to keep track of her location. He knew where Oryuu was. There was just enough light for him to make out the outlines of the shelves and crates.

"Stand still," Kyosuke ordered. "I'm going to pull a trick."

Moving the heavy crates turned out to be easier than he had thought. His Power had not been used in weeks and bucked like a ready bronco. Kyosuke nearly dropped everything during the initial clumsy surge. Madoka yelped as a jar of pickles flew past her. The dozens of shelves spilt dozens of boxes and jars, which Kyosuke caught with his invisible fingers. The crates obediently slid into place as the shelves realigned and restocked themselves, creating a claustrophobic pocket around them.

Exhausted, Kyosuke slumped against the newly formed wall of crates. He was sure that his control had matured. He could not have performed such a feat just a few months ago.

"What did you do?" Madoka demanded in a shrill whisper.

She fell silent as the footsteps stampeded closer in the dark. The barkeeper's pleading followed the rhythmic tattoo. The lights clicked on. The three youths fell silent in their darkened shelter. If they were caught, there was nowhere to run. The space was just large enough for the two to stand around Oryuu. Kyosuke felt a trickle of sweat form down the middle of his back. He swallowed. In the dark, he felt Madoka's grip dig into his shoulder.

He could sweat and ash off of her. She was close enough for him to feel her body heat. Her nervous breath fluttered on the back of his neck. The police tromped into the room with their heavy boots.

"Sir, if you've nothing to hide, then you have no need to worry about a search," an official voice boomed.

"Y-yes, sir," the barkeeper stammered.

They fell quiet as the scraping boots as a clicking sound joined them. A large dog barked over the wall of crates. Kyosuke's legs started to cramp, and the space felt small and airless as the dog sniffed closer to their position. On the opposite side, another searcher rapped against the crates. The thuds sounded loud, even louder than his own thundering heart beats. He froze as the dog frantically began scratching and snarling. The dog began barking in earsplitting bursts and scratching against the shelf.

Kyosuke reached out with his mind and gave the shelf a jarring blow. A loud shatter of glass resounded through the room. Ayukawa jumped at the noise. The dog went wild with snarling and barking; it's voice shot like a gun through the room.

"Stupid mongrel," an officer snapped.

"Calm down, calm down," another officer said, though it was unclear whether he spoke another policeman or the dog.

"I apologize for the intrusion," the officious voice apologized. "No one needs to know about those bottles."

"It's all right," the barkeeper said. "That's why I don't want dogs up here, they get into everything."

The police and barkeeper left. Kyosuke and Madoka waited a long time before they let out their pented breaths. With the threat gone, fatigue caught up with Kyosuke. He trembling legs gave way and he sank to the ground. A headache seared through his entire mind.

"Are you okay, Kyosuke?" Ayukawa asked.

Madoka put a hand on his shoulder. The weight was comforting.

"I'm okay," he said. "Just got a bit of a headache. I think that I need to rest a bit."

"Oryuu? How are you feeling?"

"Like I need a smoke and a change of pants," Oryuu answered.

Madoka casted around for their jackets. She found a black corner limply protruding from underneath a crate.

Kyosuke slipped into a deep slumber from his psychic exertion. Not even the racket of rearranging the room made stir him. By an unspoken agreement, they left him untouched. They looked at him with a mixture of awe and fear. When night came, Tendo Nabiki tapped on his shoulder until he stirred.

Nabiki half carried Kyosuke into a back street with one of his arms slung around her shoulders. She carried a plastic bag in her free hand. She knew some of the local police and knew which beats to avoid. Bystanders would see a tipsy waitress with a drunken patron, though she had far less than the smell on her clothes let on.

"The things that I do for you young'ins," Nabiki sighed to the semiconscious Kyosuke. "I didn't even get that good of a tip today. Though, it ended up to be a decent party after the fuzz left.

"Anyway, we're almost there," Nabiki concluded as the darkened house and ramshackle fence came into view.

The thin woman propped the boy against the front post as she fished for the key. She blew her misted breath on her white fingers. The storm had left a clear, chill night in its stead.

With some effort, she managed to get Kyosuke into a small room off of the main hallway. Bookshelves covered the walls, except for a china cabinet underneath a circular window. A small altar sat on the cabinet. A heated table with a cloth skirt filled the center of the room. Nabiki switched on the floor lamp. Akane had fallen asleep with her feet tucked under the skirt of the kotatsu.

Nabiki let Kyosuke sink into the ground, dropped the bag in front of Akane, and rushed back to close the door. Nabiki paused at the doorway as an armored transport rumbled down the half darkened street. She could imagine an armored police squad streaming out with their truncheons raised, but the noisy diesel engine continued down the street. The young woman returned to the living room after securing the outside door. She stepped over Kyosuke to wake her sister. Akane lifted herself off of the kotatsu.

"Dinner's here, Sis," Nabiki announced as she handed the bag to Akane.

"Thanks," Akane replied as she fumbled open a cardboard box of fried shrimp. "What was the occasion? And who's he?"

Akane was completely awake by the time that she noticed Kyosuke's supine form. He tossed about mumbling under his breath. Akane put down the food and walked over to examine the boy.

"I know him," Akane said.

"That's okay," Nabiki said. "I'm not interested in him, though he is cute in a wussy sort of way."

"That's not my point," the younger sister retorted.

He didn't seem drunk or hurt and his breathing was strong. It seemed best to leave him alone. Akane found an old blanket in a closet and spread it over the boy. Close up, she caught the word that he repeated over and over: Ayukawa.

"Ayukawa? You don't mean Ayukawa Madoka?" Akane asked aghast.

"The very one, I suppose that I have some explaining to do," Nabiki answered laconically from the kotatsu.

Nabiki summarized the strange day that began with a guy coming in from the rain. Akane related her strange rainy day encounter with Kyosuke. The sum of their accounts did not add up to much, except that the boy was strange. Nabiki favored their father and Akane their mother, so it was normal for the boy not to make the connection between them.

Stumped, Akane bit into the fried shrimp.

"It's good," Akane announced to the cold room.

Nabiki left the room to wash up.

"What do I do if he wakes up?" Akane shouted after her.

"Offer him some shrimp," Nabiki hollered from the empty hall.

Their echoing voices reminded Akane of the unused living quarters and empty practice rooms. Akane's eyes automatically flicked to the family shrine. Akane and Nabiki stopped using most of the house and abandoned the dojo training rooms. It was all that they could do to pay the bills without worrying about maintaining the obsolete building. She never knew how her eldest sister did it. Kasumi took care of her younger sisters and their father with a boundless energy. The small teen had filled the place with her smile.

After Akane had taken the edge off of her hunger, the rest of the greasy tempura held little appeal for her. She buried her head in her arms and sighed.

How was Ayukawa involved? Akane wondered.

Kyosuke rose sputtering from his slumber like a drowning man breaking the surface of a pool. Akane started to attention. She stammered an offer of shrimp.

"Shrimp?" Kyosuke asked muzzily. "You're that Nurse that I met. Nurse, Nurse," he groped for her name.

"Tendo, Tendo Akane," the girl supplied.

"Kasuga Kyosuke," he replied.

Akane rose to help Kyosuke from the floor. Her clothes were faded and patched. He gathered the blanket around himself and joined her at the kotatsu. He scanned his surroundings. His mind still felt clouded. Nabiki re-entered the room while toweling off her hair. The elder sister pulled an old padded robe over her pajamas.

"You're quite the sleeper, Kyosuke," Nabiki reproached him. "I suppose that I should thank you for running interference back there."

"I wanted to help," Kyosuke answered.

"You said that to me, too," Akane said. "How do you know Ayukawa Madoka?"

"I knew someone who looked like her. She meant a lot to me," he admitted, which was true though ambiguous.

"What I want to know is, how did you move those crates?" Nabiki asked.

"I come from a long line of ninja," Kyosuke joked.

He laughed nervously. He was saved by a loud broadcast played to a tune full of trumpets. The music reminded Kyosuke of World War II broadcasts that he'd seen in school. A feminine voice addressed the neighborhood, though it sounded more like a robot than a woman.

"Dear Comrades, thanks to the efforts of our revolutionary leadership, the recent disturbance has been calmed. The incident was perpetrated by a small group of instigators who have been apprehended. All school students are to report to school tomorrow regardless of job or other assignments. There are NO exceptions. Repeat, NO exceptions. All other citizens are to report to work as usual. Remember that it is your duty to report any suspicious activity to your teachers or employers. Please enjoy your quiet evening.

"Dear Comrades," the recording continued down the street.

"So what is the Program?" Kyosuke asked quickly to distract them Nabiki from the topic of his Powers. "It was on the posters, and one of the delinquents mentioned it."

The sisters exchanged a long look, scrutinized him, and then exchanged another look.

"What are you?" Nabiki asked bluntly. Her puzzlement showed plainly on her face.

"Forget about it," Kyosuke said. "Please forget that I asked."

"Anyway, Akane, you've got to get up early for school tomorrow," Nabiki said. "Kyosuke, would you mind staying in this room tonight? The police will probably step up patrols tonight."

* * *

AN: Never proof-read when you're on hydros.

Revised 03-13-06 & 04-05-08


	5. Tentative Bindings

Hitokiri Orange Road

Chapter 5. Tentative Bindings

The school sat about a third of the way between the Tendo dojo and the meat slaughtering plant. Akane arose early to check in at the clinic. Kyosuke also left early to get his uniform. They ate rice porridge for breakfast. It was hot, but had a charcoal tang. Akane had grown thinner and the undersides of her eyes looked bruised.

"Are you feeling well?" Kyosuke asked.

"I'm fine," she answered brusquely.

Akane finished her breakfast quickly. Kyosuke picked up his pace and thanked her for the meal. She left the room with the bowls. He took the opportunity to examine the room. Most of the books were dusty martial arts manuals. The cabinet and shrine looked well cared for, though.

A black and white photo showed a man in a formal kimono standing next his young wife who wore a Western-style dress. The woman held a swaddled child in her arms. A color picture showed a pretty girl in a high school blazer and skirt. Her skirt and hair were worn long. She smiled while flashing a victory "V". Half of the photo was cut away, though an arm of another girl remained slung around her waist. The incense censer was empty.

Akane returned with her school bag. They left the dojo by the side door and separated at the corner. Kyosuke turned the corner, found an alleyway, and teleported.

The manager Arisawa caught Kyosuke trying to sneak into the dorm. To the boy's surprise, Arisawa did not chew him out, but gave him another sheaf of paperwork. High school had become mandatory for those under 18 years old. He was to move out in the morning. In the meantime, he had to find housing in one of the blocks listed in his new housing permit. Kyosuke had also been issued a new work permit.

Kyosuke returned his work clothes and put on his uniform. As he changed, an empty pack of Lucky Strikes fell out. Kyosuke almost threw it out, but after meeting Ayukawa, all of the previous day's events seemed important. A note was stuffed inside the wrapper. He recognized Ayukawa's handwriting. The note listed an address with a meeting time. Kyosuke kept the note and discarded the wrapper. Kyosuke hurriedly finished dressing and took off for school without washing his face. The unfamiliar permits sat stiffly in his rear pocket as he ran to find a secluded place.

He had not fully recovered from the previous day's exertion; teleporting left him gasping for air as he jogged the last yards to the school gate. To his surprise, soldiers guarded the gate. They wore green camoflauge, flak jackets, and helmets. Two carried assault rifles on their backs and checked for permits and ID. Another two held their long black guns at ready. The stream of students were eerily silent.

The line moved slowly. Kyosuke found himself next to Ayukawa. She gave him a surprised look and then whipped her head away. He did not try to get her attention, though he sorely wanted to. Up close, Kyosuke saw that the soldiers were almost the same age as himself. The students were herded by the other soldiers to the gym. Each homeroom teacher stood next to a group of students. The gym floor had been marked by precisely spaced lines of tape that measured two feet wide. The students stopped at the tape. Homeroom teachers held up signs for their students.

Soldiers stood lined the sides of their gym with their weapons ready. Some students' eyes flicked back and forth. Others stood rigidly still as if emulating the soldiers. Everyone was ill at ease. Kyosuke was reminded of the pigs led into the processing plants. His homeroom teacher looked sternly at Kyosuke and his orange arm band. Kyosuke shuffled into place, sorted by name. The girls formed a second column. Ayukawa and Akane were already in line. He looked at the back of their heads for a moment, but neither of them turned around.

A podium had been set up in front of the assembled students. A middle-aged man wearing aviator sunglasses and an off-the-rack suit stepped behind the podium. He limped up to the podium. A soldier saluted him as he took his place in front of the microphone. The principal of the school stood to the side of him. He looked small next to the man with sunglasses. The principal mopped his forehead repeatedly with a white handkerchief.

The PA system screeched noisily as the man began speaking.

"Good morning," the man in sunglasses said in a hoarse voice.

The classes remained silent. The room grew tense as they heard the mechanical click of the guns being readied.

"When someone says good morning, aren't you supposed to say good morning back?" the man demanded. His voice did not rise, but slid closer to the edge. He pulled off his glasses and swept the students with an intense stare. "Let's start again. Good morning."

"Good morning," the assembly replied in a wary unison.

"Better," the government man said. "After the disturbance of the past several days, I hope that we can settle down to our everyday lives. I am here today to remind you that things have changed.

"There are rules to society, and those rules were broken. Don't think that you can get away with that."

A girl in Kyosuke's class had begun to sniffle. The soft sobs drifted through the entire auditorium. The girl's neighbors shifted uncomfortably in their places. They said nothing to the sobbing girl. They swayed uncomfortably in place, as if bound to the ground by the thin band of masking tape. After an initial stirring, the audience focused on the podium.

Kyosuke forced his face to follow suit though it was against his instinct to leave her crying. He did not remember the girl's name. She had not been in his class at his Koryo Academy. The girl was small and child-like. Her hiccuping sobs grew louder until they no longer could be contained. She began crying unreservedly. She mumbled refrain under her tears, "Fujisaki-sempai, where did you go? Where are you?"

They all waited for her to stop, including the man at the podium. He put a stick of gum in his mouth and began chewing. He surveyed the class, seemingly oblivious to the mourning girl. His face was a bland mask. Finally, the homeroom teacher gave the girl a handkerchief. She sank into his arms. The teacher looked uncomfortable.

"I'm taking her out into the hallway," the teacher announced.

The government man gave him a blank look. The teacher led the girl out of the room. The man in shades neatly spat out the gum into the silver wrapper.

"As I was saying," the middle aged man continued. "Things are going to be different."

After the assembly, the students reported to homeroom. The homeroom teacher had returned to the assembly. He was white. When they reached class, he informed them that the girl was at the nurse's office and that there was no word on Fujisawa-sempai's whereabouts. Unexpectedly, one or two of the girl students burst out crying upon reaching the safety of the class. The teacher went to soothe them.

As the teacher walked through the aisles, he clasped some students' shoulders in encouragement. Kyosuke watched them from the corner of his eye. He was surprised that his daily torturer was a good teacher to the other students. He stole a glance at Ayukawa; she stared out of the window as she always did.

The troops and government man after homeroom. None of the teachers asked about the appearance of new students, such as Kyosuke or Ayukawa, and pretended as if nothing had happened.

Missing day after day of class had left Kyosuke hopelessly behind the other students. He zoned through the rest of the school day. After classes, he teleported back to the plant. Ayukawa's meeting time was after the five o'clock curfew. He could not go in a high school uniform. Kyosuke changed into a his best khakis, that were neatly patched at a knee, and a worn shirt. Arisawa gave him the last of his pay and told him to keep the older man in mind if we wanted to make money on the side. The boy said a simple farewell to his coworkers.

Kyosuke's meager possessions fit into a single duffel bag. It was half past six when he was finished. The meeting was at seven. Kyosuke left off his orange armband. The destination was close to the bar where he had see Ayukawa. The address turned out to be a convenience store. There was no one to meet him. Kyosuke walked into the store. The round analog clock read 7:00 PM. The slight and gray proprietor glanced at him, but did not say anything. Kyosuke waited ten minutes, and then remembered the cigarette brand that the first note had come in. It was a long shot, but he decided to buy a pack. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found a scrap of paper with the tobacco.

Kyosuke left the store at a brisk walk. His destination was at the south end of the industrial zone. The other plant workers warned him that several high school gangs used abandoned factories and warehouses as hang-outs. And he could believe it after seeing the rows derelict buildings and abandoned yards strung with rusted barbed wire. Kyosuke arrived at a man-made hill of discarded cinder blocks and fractured concrete. The debris bled rust. A ramshackle. sheet metal building sat several dozen yards away. It looked like the remnants of a bomb blast.

Kyosuke picked his way through ruins by moonlight. The footing was treacherous. One misstep sent a piece of steel wire through the toe of his work boots. Fortunately, it had punctured the very tip between his largest toe and its neighbor. He eased his foot from the sharp steel. He stopped near the highest point in the heap and waited.

"Mz. Ayukawa," Kyosuke called out.

It felt strange, but seemed appropriate to address her more formally. He dropped his bag and held up his arms to show that he wasn't holding anything. If it was going to be spy drama, he might as well go all the way.

"I'm here and I'm here alone. I just want to talk to you," he announced

The sound of rubble drew his attention to his rear. Just as he turned, a louder disturbance caught his attention. He turned forward in time to be blinded by an industrial strength flashlight.

"Keep your hands up," Madoka ordered.

Ayukawa approached to quickly search his pockets. She backed away several steps and lowered her flashlight. Instead of her black long gang jacket, she wore a respectable long coat with a scarf. He looked her over once and then studied her face from the flow of her hair to her eyes, nose, and mouth; she was the same down to the eye lashes. She returned his long look with a glare.

"Can I put my hands down?" he asked.

"You're the one that put them up," Madoka said. "If you've got something to say, talk."

"Okay, first, what is the Program?"

His question broke her hard stare into a look of confusion.

"You're joking," she answered.

"I'm not, I got the same reaction from the Tendo sisters."

"How could you not know?"

"I only started school here a few months ago," Kyosuke explained. He couldn't tell her that he was from another world.

"But you must have gone to school somewhere. It's compulsory. No one escapes it, the Program."

"Let's pretend that I'm from another world. Could you please explain the Program for me? In your own words. Like what is it?"

"Okay, Mr. Alien," she answered sardonically. "It's a part of growing up. It used to be restricted to the last year of junior high. You know what junior high is right?

"Classrooms are chosen at random from all over Japan. Each year anywhere from eight to twelve classes are chosen. Each class is taken to a secluded place like a mountain or island and then the classmates are forced to fight and kill until there is only one person standing."

"You're joking," Kyosuke blurted.

His insides ran cold. Though the words were Japanese, he felt as if he were hearing an alien language.

"Why would anyone do that to children?" he demanded. Though he said children, he was only a year and change out of junior high. "What is the Program for?"

"Some people say that it's meaningless, another government directive that's taken a life of its own and gone out of control. Other people say that it's the ultimate form of entertainment for those at the top. I think that it's a form of control. Do you remember Sato Fumiko in the gym today?"

"The girl who started to cry?"

"She and us were like Japan. The Program is terrible and arbitrary, and it is inflicted on children. If the government can inflict this on parents year after year, then what _will_ get people stirred up? What won't we tolerate? We end up just like that auditorium.

"We notice her pain, but let her cry anyway. That was probably why the government stooge let her cry. It reminds of our cowardice. It reminds us that we are all cowards," Ayukawa's fists curled. Her eyes shimmered with the intensity of her emotions. "Now do you understand the Program?"

Kyosuke numbly nodded.

Several lights switched on, from the foot of the hill. Kyosuke shied away from the brightness. Ayukawa darted forward, seized his right arm in a vise-like grip and twisted it. The inner edge of her forearm cut off his breath. He grit his teeth against the pain. He struggled for small breaths. If he struggled and managed to escape her grip, she would never trust him.

"Show yourself!" Madoka demanded. "One step closer and I'll break your snitch's neck."

It was another girl gang. They wore blazers and long skirts with surgical masks to hide their faces. Kyosuke discerned the silhouettes of pipes and chains through the industrial strength flashlights. More gang members flanked them at the base of the hill, some of them wore different styles of uniforms. They began advancing up the hill.

"Ayukawa," he choked out. "I didn't snitch, I didn't betray you."

"You're right, I would need to trust in you before you could betray me," she said coldly.

She slammed a knee into his lower back, striking dead on a kidney. Kyosuke fell to his knees gasping for breath. Ayukawa backed away from him and fished out yard-long rod of steel reinforcing from a debris. A sharp blow knocked off chips of concrete.

"Madoka!" a voice called from the main group at the foot of the hill. A whip-lean girl separated from the main group. She pointed an unfolded straight razor up the hill. "I, Mari the Razor, second in command of Red Swallowtails of Fushimidai Academy will bring you to justice. Because of your betrayal, our leader was captured and yet you and that slinking bitch Oryuu escaped."

"Oryuu would never cut and run!" Ayukawa called back. "She tried to get most of the other gangs to leave."

"Tell that to Kaori, whose brother was also captured!" Mari jerked her thumb behind her.

A girl in a long black suicide jacket stood in the middle of the group. The jacket bore the same markings as the ones Kyosuke saw from the previous day. He rose painfully to his feet and backed up as twenty odd gangsters advanced toward the top of the hill. He backed up toward Madoka and Madoka backed up toward him. The stood nearly back to back, exposing their flank to Mari's main group, which stayed at the base of the hill.

Kyosuke felt his mouth go dry. He never associated pain with gain or any positive machismo. The boy only ascribed hurt to pain and the rough women promised him a world of hurting.

"You really don't have anything to do with them, do you?" Madoka asked him.

"No."

"Can you fight?"

"No really," Kyosuke answered. "But I have a trick or two that I can pull."

"Like moving those shelves?"

"Something like that."

The gangsters were a third of the way up the hill. On the way up, Kyosuke had stepped over a partly buried traffic barrier that had rocked under his weight. He could make out the outline of the barrier further uphill from the gangster.

"There's going to be a break, get ready to make for it," Kyosuke said.

Madoka nodded. The gangster below him noticed his inattention and threw the pipe that she had been holding. Kyosuke began to duck, but remembered that Madoka stood behind him. He froze in mid-motion and threw up his arm against the spinning steel. He threw an impulse of will behind the arm, but it was too late. The blow resonated through his arm. It took a moment for the pain to catch up with Kyosuke. He doubled over his arm as heavy red pulses of pain ran through his body.

Despite the pain, Kyosuke focused his power on the partly buried traffic barrier. He pushed at it with all the force that he could muster. The gangster dove out of the way as the barrier teetered dangerously, and then rolled from its unsteady perch. As it rolled, a section of the hill cascaded down with it.

Ayukawa seized Kyosuke around the waist and charged down the hill in the wake of the collapse. The delinquents dove away from the tons of crashing concrete. Their feet skid over the unstable rubble. Madoka's natural grace and uncanny dexterity barely kept them upright. Under the cover of dust and night, they ran from the shaken gangsters into the night.

Ayukawa's grip shifted to his wrist, but it never wavered. Every step jarred his arm, shooting a fresh shot of pain through him. In spite of it, he put one flat foot on the pavement after another. They made several turns and then ducked into an alley until the sounds of pursuit rushed past them. Madoka managed to pick the cheap lock at the back of an abandoned office building.

Madoka locked the door and then helped Kyosuke into a windowless room. She quickly flicked on her trench lighter. The floor was litter with pieces of plaster and dust. She propped him against a wall. She rummaged through his bag. There was a rickety chair that she dismantled for splints.

"I thought that I'd lost that, thanks," Kyosuke said between wheezed breaths.

"Let me see your arm," Ayukawa said.

Kyosuke bit down on one his cleaner shirts as she as she probed his arm for damage; a bone had been displaced. He bit back a muffled scream as he felt the bone grind; the boy was left shaken and sweating. Another shirt was sacrificed to bind his hurt arm.

"I can't seem to keep on my two feet these days," the boy gasped. He forced a weak smile.

"How are you feeling, Kasuga?"

"Fine," he answered. _Fine, now that I've heard you call me by my name,_ he added quietly to himself.

Kyosuke let his muscles relax as much as he could and settled down.


	6. Chapter 6

Hitokiri Orange Road

Chapter 6.

Kyosuke spent the rest of the night with Ayukawa.

They waited in the darkness sitting side by side. His arm throbbed fiercely as the adrenaline slowly seeped from his system. He tried to make small talk, but his voice sounded thin to his own ears. The pain drained utterly him, but kept rest at arm's length.

Ayukawa ignored him. The young woman counted to sixty under her breath and then flicked her butane lighter. She stared into the fire intently. As the flicks of fire counted the minutes, he noticed her breaths grow shorter and sharper. Sweat sheened her brow. Her hand grew clumsy with the lighter. Ayukawa only made a vague sound when he asked if she were OK. She counted to thirty flicks before rousing Kyosuke to go.

Ayukawa scouted the alleyway, before they slipped into night. Kyosuke stumbled on his feet, but she waited patiently for him. They followed darkened alleyways and darted across the street. Ayukawa half hauled him over a wire fence. She gave a small curse as a her overcoat ripped. She waved away his apology. Several streets later, they saw flashlight beams from several blocks away. The fugitives slipped between a pair of warehouses and ducked among barrels of scrap until the searchers left.

Their circuitous path headed out of town. Cracked asphalt gave way to spongy soil and waist deep grass. Each step sucked softy at their shoes. The moon had climbed near its peak when they encountered a long wire fence. The fence ran along a rail yard littered with cars. Ayukawa found a cut in the fence several hundred yards down and led Kyosuke into the deep shadows.

Kyosuke's former coworkers had mentioned a tin town literally on the wrong side of the tracks. They had described it as a rough place, far rougher than the Disco Moebius that Kyosuke had dared to frequent. According to their stories, it was full of knife fights, professional flesh, bloody cock fights, and raw moonshine. He gave a swallow as they passed through the railyard and reentered the weeds.

The ground dropped off sharply. They crested a hill to see orange flames in the distance. The descent was treacherous by moonlight. He tripped several times, but Ayukawa kept him from falling. Her expression was hard to read in the half-light, but it was gentler than the delinquent on the hill of rubble. Their eyes met several times, but she quickly looked away. Kyosuke wondered if there was someone else.

A shaggy mutt announced their arrival with frenzied barking; Ayukawa let the it sniff her. The dog seemed to recognize her. An old woman whistled for the dog. Ayukawa followed it between a tent and a tin shack to a bonfire where several tents were pitched. The girl spoke to the crone before signaling for him to come over. Ayukawa maneuvered him by his shoulders next to a campfire. The toothless woman reminded him of the witch in Snow White. Only Ayukawa's touch stopped him from screaming and bolting when the old woman approached him with a long, pointed knife.

The crone skillfully sliced away the makeshift splints. He winced when her fingers probed the damaged bone. It had been properly set. She redressed the arm with sturdier splints and gave him a pair of white pills. Kyosuke looked at them suspiciously.

"It's just ibuprofen," Ayukawa explained.

He dry swallowed the pills. As he reached for his wallet, Ayukawa stayed his hand and insisted on paying.

She led him to a clearing bounded by four railcars. Vendors had set their stalls in the abandoned cars and in the square between. Several fires blazed around makeshift seats. There were a few occupants who seemed to be hobos or ragged laborers. There were orange armbands scattered in the crowd. They glanced at up, but turned back to their mugs. It was quieter than Kyosuke expected.

Kyosuke remembered an incident on his side, when his sister Kurumi had gone missing for a day. The other Ayukawa had devoted friends who were rough around the edges. He suspected that this Ayukawa had more allies, since she continued to associate with gangs.

Akukawa bought two glass bottles, and they took a seat at a discarded cable spool. She popped the tops of the bottles with an opener on her key chain. Kyosuke sniffed at the unlabeled bottle, which smelled of sweet licorice and herbs. He took a sip. The tangy aftertaste felt good on his tongue.

"Root beer," Ayukawa said. "It's an American drink. What did you think it was? Alcohol? There's no way that I'm buying drinks for a kid like you."

He responded with a brief smile.

"Truth is, I can't really hold it that well," Kyosuke admitted. "Aren't you afraid of cops or those gangsters?" he asked in an undertone.

"No, they won't come out here," Ayukawa said. "The police collect their own 'taxes' from here and so as long as they get that, they don't bother. And the Townies here wouldn't tolerate another claim on there turf. The Red Swallowtails tried to stake a claim, so Mari won't show herself here. Are you worried about them?"

"I'm wor-" Kyosuke caught himself. "This may be too forward, but I'm worried for you."

Ayukawa held off her answer by taking a long drink. Her long hair hid her expression. She studied her scruffy companion. His hair was matted and his face smudged with debris. He hunched over his broken arm. Kyosuke did not seem strong, swift, or bold, but there was a slightly awkward air that made her want to trust him. Whether it was his face, bearing, or countryside Tohoku accent, she wasn't sure.

"Thank you for worrying," Ayukawa answered simply. "But worrying won't do much good.

"In any case, you've got two choices tonight. We can take our chances by heading back into the city. I'm sure that I could find someone to put you up for the night. Or you can either stick by me and pull an all-nighter."

"Staying up sounds just fine to me," Kyosuke said. He felt plucky after the pain killer had begun to take affect. "Do I smell corn?"

The night was well past half-spent. Away from the city lights, stars shined scattered across the broad black sky. The moon hung pale and small. They bought corn on the cob, which proved to be an difficult meal for Kyosuke. Madoka lent him a hand, though she took the opportunity to jerk the ear away from his teeth more than once. They chased the food down with mugs of bitter tea. In the early morning, an old vendor loaned Madoka a large army blanket. She hung the scratchy wool loosely over their shoulders. A busker came to play and was accompanied by a mongrel and a distant nightingale. A small crowd gathered to request American songs. Kyosuke recognized several Beetles and other tunes.

Kyosuke dozed several times, but so did Ayukawa. The cold reddened her face and cheeks. She nestled against him shoulder. Kyosuke felt like a child, tuckered out from playing all day. He watched her and sat beside her until the dawn rose early, pale, and far too soon.

The previous night felt like a dream when Kyosuke awoke in the bouncing back of a pick-up truck. An old man woke him up in front of a clinic. Kyosuke thanked them and offered them a bill from his pocket. He refused. He ended up bowing to the departing truck as it noisily drove away. The boy chalked up the unexpected kindness to Ayukawa's magic.

From the moment that Kyosuke had caught Ayukawa's red hat, he felt as if anything were possible with her. There was no chance, only fortune. He tried to hold onto the feeling tightly.

Kyosuke slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. The quick motion jarred his arm. He hissed at the pain, but refused to let it slow him. He carefully opened the dirty glass door to the clinic. The darkened lobby and cracked tiling were the same. Several stained partitions divided the space. A lone figure sat at a flimsy folding table. The nurse on duty had a tomboyish haircut under her cap.

Kyosuke caught her in the middle of a tremendous yawn. The girl clamped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. She scanned his disheveled appearance from head to toe and them back to the top of his messy head.

"Good morning," Kyosuke said. "I wondered if you had any aspirin to spare. And if I could use your restroom."

"Sure," Akane said cautiously. She did not take her eyes off of him.

The young woman busied herself behind a partition. She reappeared with a pair of pills and a small cup of water. Kyosuke thanked her for the pills and then used the restroom. It was no cleaner than last time. He used the restroom and thought about changing into his uniform, but thought better of it. When he reentered the lobby, Akane examined his arm and concluded that he needed a cast.

"Have you been fighting? Actually, never mind, it's probably better if I didn't know," she concluded wearily.

"No, I didn't fight," Kyosuke said. "I was attacked and ran."

"Did it have to do with Ayukawa?" Akane asked as she unbound his arm. She grimaced at the ugly bruise on his arm.

"Well, I went to meet her," Kyosuke answered. "She saved me."

"You'd be safer away from her," Akane advised.

"How do you know that?" Kyosuke demanded. "She may look tough, but there's so much more to her than that."

Akane kept silent. She gently washed his arm clean. The boy felt awkward after raising his voice at her. As she concentrated, her determined face seemed far more mature and feminine. The warm plaster-soaked bandages soothed the throbbing in his arm. For the second time that day, he felt like a child being cared for. She caught his look as she finished her task.

"What is it?" she asked.

"N-nothing," he stammered. "Thank you very much."

"It was only my duty, Comrade," she replied wearily. "We're going to be late for school. You're all set."

"Are headed out?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"Then I can walk with you."

"You don't need to wait," she said. "I have to fill out the log book."

"I don't mind waiting," Kyosuke answered. It was partly politeness, but he also wanted to find out the younger Tendo's connection to Ayukawa. "But if you don't want to walk with me, I understand."

"No, I don't mind," she said. "It'll be a few minutes."

Akane filled out the log efficiently and then disappeared to change into her dark gray uniform. They were late, but neither could walk quickly.

Kyosuke asked her about her household. She had two sisters. Nabiki was older. The eldest sister Kasumi had passed away. Her father followed soon after his favorite daughter. Their mother had died when Akane was small. Kyosuke told her that his mother had also passed away when he was little. He could barely remember his mother's face. As for the rest of his family, he told her that he did not know about the whereabouts of his father or twin sisters.

To make conversation, Kyosuke told her that he had been reassigned to another job from the processing plant. She asked about his armband. They stopped for him to pull it up his right arm. She helped him pin it in place.

"You're really nice," he said.

She seemed surprised by his comment and hurried ahead. He had to walk briskly to keep up. When he caught up, the school clock tower came in sight. Akane did not leave him behind, but kept up the pace.

"If we hurry, we can make it to homeroom."

Kyosuke nodded. They entered and mounted the stairs as the bell tolled. The door slid open to a stunned class, when they entered one after another. All eyes were trained on them. Ayukawa's eyes flashed from Kyosuke to Akane and then flicked away to the window.

"I thought that air was unusually fresh," the teacher said to Kyosuke. "Mz. Tendo you should remember that attendance rules are far stricter. Now, please take your seat. Your sister would keep better company."

He headed to his seat and sank in gratefully. Akane had refused to take her seat. Her body was locked rigid, and her eyes shined with raw emotion.

"Excuse me?" Akane demanded.

"Mz. Tendo, please take your seat," the teacher asked. "We'll talk about it after class."

"My sister was a kind and good person. I can't believe that you would say something like that," her voice broke on the words.

"Mz. Tendo, please calm down."

Akane spun around and dashed out the door. The door slammed loudly in the silence, rebounding from the excess force. Kyosuke hesitated. Murmurs rushed in to fill the silence. The whispers pushed him to his decision; the class would talk in any case. He rushed through the opening.

She ran quickly. He glimpsed a corner of her gray skirt turn the corner. The hallways were empty. Kyosuke grit his teeth against the pain in his arm as he started up the stairs. He burst through the metal door and froze at the sight of the familiar rooftop. He half-expected Hikaru to be waiting for him. He would have even welcome Yuusaku's glaring face and growled threats.

Kyosuke shook away the nostalgic images. He focused on finding the distraught girl. The roof was abandoned. He found her on top of the stair. The girl sat with her arms wrapped around her knees. Kyosuke mounted the ladder with a grim determination. He managed to climb by pulling himself up with in Power in place of his damaged arm. He surged up and over the last rung, and surprised Akane by catapulting several feet in the air before crashing onto the bulkhead. The jolt to his arm left him shaken.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" Akane snapped. She hastily wiped away her tears. There were heavy bags beneath her eyes. Her anger ebbed when she saw his green face. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Kyosuke lied. He struggled into a sitting position against a humming fan. Akane sat at a diagonal to him, leaning against another machine.

"Why are you up here?" she asked. "How did you get up here?"

"You just dashed out of the classroom, so I thought that something was really wrong," he said, ignoring her question. "How are you?"

"I'm fine now," Akane said.

"I wonder how he got to be a teacher," Kyosuke groused. "He's always picking on me."

"I'm not sure why he bullies you, but I can't believe that he would say that. It was wholly inappropriate for class. I can't believe that he brought Kasumi into it. He was her favorite teacher."

"Was she the one in the picture at your house?" Kyosuke received a small nod in response. "She looked so gentle."

"Yes, she was," Akane mumbled. She clasped her knees again.

They let the humming machines fill up the minutes.

"It's getting cold," Kyosuke mentioned. He rose and gave her a hand up."Let's get back."

"I should go down first, in case you fall," Akane offered.

"I'll be fine."

The descent was easier. As he reached the bottom, he was startled by Ayukawa's voice. She pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him.

"Quiet," Ayukawa whispered fiercely. "We've got to get out of here. They're here. The people from the Program are here."


	7. Chapter 7

Summer was the season of rumors. Rumors of an impending American invasion, a fingertip found in a corner store rice ball, a new Koshien Stadium being planned, and other perennial favorites thrived with the dandelions in the stifling heat. After work, the menfolk scurried to their watering holes. Their lingering talk was overheard by barmen, who passed the word onto the liquor store owners. One delivery boy, who was an ex-delinquent, passed one particular rumor among his former compatriots along with a swiped pint of bitters. Because the rumor referred to the Program, this seed took root.

The wisps of dispersed dandelion clock floated Ayukawa's way on the other side of the tracks and around the burning tar barrels in the industrial zone. She dismissed the rumor as an urban tale designed to scare teens, a variant of the killer video tape.

This tale was different though. The brown-suited bureacrats from the Ministries of Education, Youth Development, and Preservation of Cultural Morality scuttled to and fro in a methodical madness only found in large organizations. The paper pushers formed research teams, task forces, and panels only to dissolve and reorganized them. Announcements barraged the state TV programs. Students, retirees, salarymen, and laborers were herded into mandatory rallies throughout July and August.

Ayukawa attempted to crushed her anxiety with her faith in the immutable rules of the Program. Every child in the Democratic Republic of Japan learned the rules. Every student participated in the lottery; it made no sense to have the Program extend into high school, mandatory education ended at the third year of junior high. If the secondary schools were subject to the Program, they would be devoid of students. That logic sustained her until she overheard her parents debating through the gray hours of the morning.

Her mother and father had returned home for a rare vacation from the orchestra. Ayukawa thoroughly enjoyed the September day together and went to bed spent. During the night, She awoke to use the loo, and saw them huddled together. Her mother and father were still in the semi-formals that they had worn to the French restaurant. Her father held her mother's hand as if consoling her. Their broken tones and painful pauses cut through Madoka's web of denial. Through their garbled words, they had heard from government connections that the Program would not only be extended up to high school, but that high school would become mandatory.

Robbed of sleep, she excavated a cardboard box buried beneath a crush of well-loved toys and pygmy clothing. Ayukawa hesitated to unseal the neat strip of tape. The memory of her sister decided it; Madoka's only picture of Ami was sealed inside. Madoka pulled out her house key and sawed through the smooth brown tape.

She held up a framed black and white photo to the light. A raven-haired girl flashed a victory sign. Madoka had a difficultly telling herself from the girl in the sailor suit. Ami's pretty best friend Tendo Kasumi looked abashedly into the lens. With a jolt, Madoka realized that she had outgrown them; she had always chased them, content that she would never catch up.

Madoka stared at the photo for a long time before she could pull herself away to begin preparations. Weeks later, the government made its formal announcement.

**Hitokiri Orange Road**

Chapter 7.

The sky had shaded into an uncertain gray. Dark wells had formed in the cloud masses, contrasting with the slivers of blue inbetween.

"Quiet," Ayukawa whispered fiercely. "We've got to get out of here. The men from the Program are here."

Akane Tendo caught herself as her grip momentarily slipped from the rung. Her hands shook as she descended the remaining length of the ladder. She gave Ayukawa a searching look.

"Are you serious?" Akane asked.

"What do we do?" Kyosuke's voice unexpectedly cracked. Their anxiety was infectious.

"Follow me."

Ayukawa quickly descended the stair tower. Her impatient stride caused her schoolbag to slapped against her leg. Kyosuke followed while Akane trailed. Their scuffing steps echoed through the bare stairwell. They had descended a flight when several mens' voices floated up from the first floor. Ayukawa stopped short, causing a pile-up. The raven-haired girl opened the door enough to peer into the hall.

Ayukawa reached past Kyosuke and fastened a her grip around Akane's arm; she dragged Akane across the hall. Kyosuke followed. His skin boiled in gooseflesh as he ran exposed across the six feet. He belatedly gave the metal stair door a tap with his Power to prevent it from slamming. Akane slid the classroom door close behind him.

The stair door boomed open. Several men tread heavily into the corridor near the darkened classroom. Minutes later, Another man greeted them from down the hall.

"We've got the perimeter secured," the man from the hall announced. His casual tone sounded like a salayman greeting an office mate.

"You're late and not so loud," the leader of the group snapped. "Here are our orders. Take a head count from the bottom up. Seal each door as we go and let the medical team do their business. Do it systematically.

"Don't forget the empty classrooms," he pounded the classroom door for emphasis. "Storage closets, or restrooms, even the girls' room."

A shiver ran up Kyosuke's spine as the glass pane rattled.

"Did that bastard bother to show up?" the hallway man asked.

"He had something to take care of," the stairway man answered. "Something about his daughter."

"He has a wife?"

"I assume so."

"I wonder what the girl looks like. They probably hate him as much as we do."

"Stuff it. We don't have the time or people. Let's get started. Here are your assigned areas and the attendance rolls. If we miss one student, our heads will roll."

The group of suits broke with that warning. Kyosuke expelled his pented breath. The tightness in his chest and the patter of his heart reminded him of being hunted during the previous night, but the danger felt far worse. Akane clutched her knees. The girl's chest heaved rapidly. Kyosuke tapped her shoulder. She gave him a weak smile. Meanwhile, Ayukawa dug through her bag with a look of determination on her face.

Emboldened by Ayukawa's focus, Kyosuke took stock of his Powers. Telekinesis could be used for self defense. He had never attempted to teleport another person. He was not sure if it were even possible. Time-slipping was not going to be useful, though he had to watch out for falling down stairs. Self-hypnosis and premonitions wouldn't help him now.

Kyosuke felt painfully aware of his limitations, but did not allow himself to dwell on it. He studied his surroundings. Plaster sculptures sat on the shelves, and easels were stacked in a corner of the musty room. Kyosuke crept to a supply cabinet, which was locked. He found the key hooked nearby. He opened the closet with his good arm. Crusty paint brushes, palettes, and hardened bags of plaster littered the top shelves, nothing useful or dangerous. On the bottom level were several plastic jugs of paint thinner and remover. A heft told him that the containers were mostly full. Ayukawa peered over his shoulder and nodded her approval.

Ayukawa revealed her arsenal: a pair smoke canisters, four M80-sized firecrackers, a thin nylon cord, a slingshot, and several ball bearings. She strapped the sturdy slingshot to her forearm and gave the industrial strength elastic a test pull with a ball bearing. She then appropriated the fire extinguisher.

Ayukawa roused Akane to help her secure one end of the nylon cord around a column. The other end was looped around the fire extinguisher. As they tied, Ayukawa outlined her plan.

"They've probably have guns, we can't fight. We have to run. We can use these to make a distraction," Ayukawa indicated her fireworks. "We'll go out the window and run to the parking lot. I managed to copy the keys to a car. It's a big black Beamer."

"Since when do you know how to drive?" Akane asked.

"I figured out the basics," Ayukawa said. "It's our best chance."

"What about Kasuga, how will he get down?"

"I'll manage," Kyosuke said.

Ayukawa nodded. "Our other choice is to take our chances with the Program."

"You've been preparing," Akane said.

"Yes, we can talk about it later. We've got to get moving if we're going escape."

Kyosuke considered offering his teleportation to disperse the explosives, but there was not enough time to explain. He also did not want to get separated from them. Instead, he offered his left hand palm down. Akane laid her damp palm on top of his, and Ayukawa added hers. She looked pale and nervous, but her hand was steady. They broke their salute.

Akane and Kyosuke bound kerchiefs across their mouths while Ayukawa tied on a dust mask and looped a tie in her hair. While they were distracted by another detail, Kyosuke crimped and ruptured the sprinkler pipes. The layout of the pipes would disrupt the sprinklers to their wing of second floor. Kyosuke tried to dampen the noise of the dribbling water with rags.

Their preparations took less than twenty minutes. Ayukawa lay belly down at the crack beneath the door and scanned the vicinity with her compact mirror. There was one suit guarding the stairwell door. Ayukawa gave them quick instructions.

Kyosuke stood near the door with the bucket of paint thinner. Ayukawa lit a firework and then gave the signal. Akane jerked the door open. Madoka shifted into a kneeling position. She casted the explosive at the suit and then ducked behind the door. The suit turned as he reached for the holster slung at his side. The explosion caught him at jaw level; he collapsed, clutching the ruins of his face. The blast rang through the corridor. Ayukawa glanced into the hall to assess the damage, before pulling a smoke grenade from her pocket. She primed and tossed it down the hall.

Ayukawa bumped Kyosuke to break his stunned fixation with the wounded man. Kyosuke hurled the bucket at the stair door. He cheated to disperse the volatile liquid evenly, and then ran to side of the art room with the cabinets. Akane held the light up for Ayukawa to ignite the remaining explosives. The second M80 ignited the paint thinner and the downed man. He rolled on the ground as he caught fire. She sent number three down the hall and four up.

Cries of panic rose through the school. The howling fire alarm joined the cacophony. Ayukawa and Akane locked the door and went for the rope. Kyosuke shoved a pair of heavy cabinets into their wake.

Madoka flung open the window and let the rope down. She spat into her hands before rappelling down. Akane followed. Kyosuke waited for Madoka to reach the bottom. The raven-haired girl crouched into a ready position with her slingshot ready. Kyosuke gulped as he knelt at the window.

A government suit began shouting at the art room door. The noise spurred Kyosuke into motion. He tried to spit into his palms, but his mouth was too dry. He gave up and awkwardly mounted the rope with one hand. Akane had already dismounted the rope and followed Ayukawa into the barren brush. His slow descent was detected as he reached the halfway mark. Akane shouted to him.

A small crater appeared in the wall next to his hand, showering him in dust. The boy dropped the last eight feet to the ground. The gun barked twice again, two misses. His telekinesis slowed him at just before hitting the ground. The boy desperately scrambled for the bushes.

Ayukawa lobbed her last smoke grenade toward a suit standing in the path. The smoke swelled into dense cloud. Ayukawa signaled for Kyosuke to head toward the parking lot. He ran, almost on fours, like he had seen in old cop shows. He tried to keep to the line of brush and trees. The hulking suit scooped up the spewing canister and tossed it toward the school. Ayukawa launched a ball bearing at the suit as he threw the can. The blow knocked off his shades. He staggered clutching his eye, but maintained his footing.

Another gunshot pealed. Kyosuke glanced back. Ayukawa and Akane had dropped to the ground. The suit aimed in the direction of the girls.

Kyosuke lashed out with his power, clipping the man behind the knee. He charged at the downed man, simultaneously, slamming the man's hand to the ground. The gun went off. The adrenaline-driven boy flinched at the noise, but charged ahead. They boy channeled his Power through his heel as he stomped on the the pistol handle and ground suit's palm into the pavement. The gun went off once again. The suit screamed as his bones snapped. Kyosuke diverted his will to keeping the trigger depressed. He wrested the weapon from the suit's maimed hand. Ayukawa and Akane caught up with Kyosuke. Two more suits ran toward them. Kyosuke squeezed a random shot, sending the suits scurrying for cover.

The students did not look back even as the enemy fired after them. They darted around the corner of the building for the parking lot. Ayukawa led them to a large black car. She smiled grimly and pulled out her duplicate key. Kyosuke had never seen her with such a fierce look.

"Get in and don't forget your seat belts!" she ordered. "And keep your heads down."

"And Kyosuke, switch on the safety. It should be a lever on the side."

Kyosuke pulled his finger out of the trigger guard and managed to find the safety before the big German car jerked back. The car's rear bashed into the front of a boxy red hatchback. Kyosuke grit his teeth against the jolt in his arm; both his pain killers and adrenaline had worn off. Akane tried to make herself as small.

Ayukawa snarled curses as she wrenched the stick into gear. The car lurched into motion and then squealed into liberating speed. They headed in a straight line for the exit. The exit approached; the road came into sight. Over the guardrails, Ayukawa saw a white car hurtling down the road from the right. It screeched to a halt, blocking most of the exit. Ayukawa floored the gas, scraping against the tip of a guardrail and riding over the curb, and then swung into the far lane, facing oncoming traffic.

A two-axle truck honked desperately at them. Brakes squealed. The black car lifted briefly off onto two wheels. Before she could finish her swerve into the left lane, the white sedan began moving again.

Kyosuke heard a high pitched scream, which was probably his own. He saw the white car with terrible clarity as it inexorably approached. In the other vehicle, a middle-aged man gripped his steering wheel with fierce intensity. Kyosuke recognized him as the bland speaker from the student assembly. A girl sat in the back seat; she wore the gray uniform from his school. Her face froze in a silent scream.

The white sedan caved in the back door on Kyosuke's side. The impact was enough to drive the back of the German car into the path of the oncoming truck. Tons of steel and glass collided. Gravity was suspended for a moment and then Kyosuke was thrown around in his seat like a rag doll being shaken by a pit bull. His senses were consumed by the storm of shattering glass and red lights flashing before his sealed eyes.


	8. Falling Curtain

Hitokiri Orange Road

Chapter 8. Falling Curtain

Tortured steel screamed, drowning out the rest of the collision's chaos. A feeling of weightlessness welled in the pit of Kyosuke's stomach; it was the first sign of teleportation. He fought down the impulse to cut and run.

Kyosuke tore the building energy out of himself. An incoming hail of glass halted in mid-flight and were launched out of the sedan. His pent will unleashed like the arms of a hurricane spiraling from it nexus. One arm caught the side of the delivery truck. The battered sheet metal crumpled. On the other side of the Benz, the roof of the white sedan crushed. Kyosuke hurled the three vehicles apart with one monstrous surge.

The backlash of the forces surged through the boy's body. Most of the opposing reactions canceled, but the remainder ripped through his frame. A pain flared through his innards like a torn muscle amplified a hundred times over.

The smashed Benz swerved erratically after being freed from the three way collision. Ayukawa had flung her arms up to protect herself from incoming glass. Kyosuke called shrilly to her. He tug at her wrists with the last shreds of his mental strength. The pull was as gentle a toddler's touch, but it was enough to rouse the raven-haired girl from her shock.

Ayukawa's poise and determination never ceased to amaze Kyosuke. In his reality, she had faced down armies of thugs with one arm tied down and challenged the mother of all tides. Ayukawa did not disappoint him now. The young woman furiously worked the wheel, stick, and pedals, guiding the black car into a crazed fishtail. Storefronts, parked cars, and street lamps whirled by in a centrifuged succession. A red compact swerved onto the sidewalk to avoid them. Its horn wailed after them. They glanced off of a parked van, and nearly richoceted into an oncoming blue sedan. After a half a block of scorched tread later, the black Benz screeched to a halt. The cabin filled with the putrid tang of gasoline mixed with burnt rubber.

"Everyone alive?" Akane asked weakly. Kyosuke could barely hear her; his ears were filled with ringing.

Ayukawa looked into the passenger's side and then unlatched her seat belt to check on the back seat. Her eyes lingered over him. She reached toward him, but pulled away as if her hand had been scalded. Her face set itself into a grim mask of stone.

The girl turned back to the wheel. She wrenched the key in the ignition. The engine responded with asthmatic wheezes. She gave up after several tries and rushed out of the hulk.

Kyosuke gasped helplessly in his seat. He could not breath. His fumbling fingers found the seatbelt catch. A pair of hands stopped him from rising.

"Where does it hurt?" Akane asked. Though her hands were firm, her voice quivered.

"We've got to get out of here," he gasped. "We've got to stay together."

"Can you move your arms and legs?" she asked. He nodded.

Though Kyosuke did not show signs of neck injury, Akane tied her neck scarf around him to restrict his head. She half-carried him away from the wreck. The short distance felt like the last leg of a marathon. Akane leaned him against the pocked side of a pick-up truck. He trembled, and his black uniform hung like limp lead from his body

A crowd had gathered around the smashed import. A thickly built laborer, wearing a stained shirt and jeans, strode to the front of the onlookers. He banged a meaty fist against the end of the pick-up. Akane jumped; Kyosuke was too far gone to react.

"What the hell are you doing? Get out of there!" he shouted.

Ayukawa emerged from the cab with a glare. She pulled out the captured handgun.

"Give me your keys," she demanded.

The laborer stared in disbelief. The crowd quickly melted away. Ayukawa switched off the safety.

"The keys. Throw them at my feet," she aimed the handgun with exaggerated care.

The big man pulled a jangling cluster of keys. He tossed threw them at her before running away. Ayukawa caught the keys one handed. She squeezed off a shot into the pavement. The crowd dispersed as she ducked into the cab.

Akane helped Kyosuke into the other side of the pick-up. He lolled against the head rest as Akane shifted him into the center seat. Ayukawa turned the ignition, but the truck refused to start. The steering column had been gutted. Ayukawa tried to tie the wires back together with a pair of multi-purpose pliers, but she was too late. A helicopter whined into earshot and grew into a thunderous chopping.

"You're surrounded. Give yourselves up," an amplified voice warned. An impact jolted the driver's side. The truck listed to the passenger side as a tire deflated. "That was a warning shot. The next shot will not be in warning. Come out with your hands up."

Sirens echoed through the streets. Police cruisers pulled in from all directions, blockading the roads ahead and behind the truck. The uniforms poured from the cruisers, taking cover behind their wheeled stockade. Their black revolvers aimed at the escapees. Akane held her arms skyward and emerged from the truck. Ayukawa cursed under her breath. She was in arm's length. Kyosuke mustered his will to reach out, but his battered body responded too slowly; Ayukawa had already moved beyond his reach. His hand grasped the air. The empty fingers wrapped into a fist.

Ayukawa carefully set down her gun as she surrendered. The cops surrounded the girls and patted them down. Leering smiles twisted their faces. Kyosuke rose on a surge of anger, but a stab of pain drove him to the pavement. He could only cough violently as several uniforms towered over him. A polished shoe stomped his wounded arm. Kyosuke felt broken bone grind as it shifted. The boy dropped weakly onto his side, clutching his arm.

He flinched as one of them spat. The globule splattered over his cheek. The boy was certain that they were going to kill him. A hoarse voice called out over the chopper's racket.

"They've got to be intact. You can't damage the goods!'

"Mr. Tanaka," a policeman crisply saluted. They parted for him.

A drably dressed man loomed into Kyosuke's view. The blocky face was recognizable as the speaker from the auditorium and the driver who rammed them to prevent their escape. The front of the his shirt was smeared with dark blood. Calloused fingers pried Kyosuke's eye open. The boy could not look away, though the stare bore down with the intensity of train headlights. The rough hands abruptly released him.

"Pick up this one. Hurry," Tanaka ordered a pair of men who wore white surgeon masks.

Kyosuke was hauled onto a stretcher. The movement set off the pain in his arm, but the masked men ignored him. They strapped down his battered flesh and loaded him into a waiting ambulance.


	9. Introduction to the Program

Hitokiri Orange Road

Chapter 9. Introduction to the Program

The ambulance bounced along the rubbly pavement. Each impact sent fresh stabs through Kyosuke's body. Each turn pressed his weight against his wounded arm, and elicited a gasp of pain from the boy. When crying out did not provide any relief, he bit down on inside of his mouth. There was no saliva left, and the thick iron taste from his pierced lip only worsened his thirst. No matter what he did, he could not escape the pain.

"It hurts, it hurts," he pleaded. "Something, give me something."

At first, the green clothed attendants ignored him, but after several blocks, one of the green masked attendants broke off his chatter long enough to kick the stretcher. The gurney rattled against its restraints. The boy whimpered.

"Shut up! Quit your whining, it's getting on my nerves," the lean man snapped.. The stretcher received another kick.

"Hey, hey! Ease up. If you kill him, we'll be in big trouble," the other medic whined. "And you can't smoke in here."

The first attendant had lowered his mask to puff on a cigarette that he'd just lit. His face was angular. "Shut up. This bastard isn't going to die. I heard that he took down two guys when he tried to escape. Can't they hurry it up?"

"We can't turn on the sirens. It's the old man's orders. Anyways, we're almost there."

The rear windows changed from a inconsistent sky to anemic subterranean lights. A long left hand turn was pure agony. The angular medic planted the cigarette stub at the corner of the boy's limp lips. He pulled back up the mask.

The other attendant plucked the butt from the gurney and tossed it away. "Don't play around. You'll get us in trouble."

"Everyone should get a smoke before he goes," the smoker intoned in a solemn voice.

Though Kyosuke had fervently wished for the ambulance to stop, stopping brought no relief. The medics roughly unloaded the stretcher. The gurney rumbled over pavement that connected to a long hallway. The reached a room that buzzed with activity. The familiar scent of astringent stung Kyosuke's nose. A new masked man appeared. He ignored Kyosuke's cries of pain.

"Why didn't you fill out the paperwork?" the new mask demanded from the attendants.

"Hey, no one told us to," the second attendant complained.

"It's standard procedure."

"What's done is done," the smoker said. "Are you going to argue with us or are you going to treat your patient, Doctor?"

"Fill it out later, just put him over there for now," the new voice snapped.

Kyosuke closed his eyes to try to shut out everything. He was wheeled to a new area. The doctor jabbed him with questions. The boy responded to get the interrogation over with. A pair of cool hand seized him arm. He opened his eyes to see a nurse swab the inside of the bend. She pricked it quickly, and ice trickled into his veins. His limbs turned to to lead. He felt lighter as all sensation ceased. Tears welled in his eyes.

A second gurney was wheeled next to him. A form in a dark girl's sailor uniform lay unmoving on the white sheet. Her head was mummified in gory wrappings, and an oxygen mask engulfed her face. Mr. Tanaka, with his bland face firmly in place, followed the stretcher. The front of his shirt was smeared with a rusted stain.

Their voices drifted away from Kyosuke.

"I'm sorry, but your daughter isn't going to make it, Mr. Tanaka."

"Just make her comfortable," He answered calmly.

* * *

The hard light glared redly through Kyosuke's eyelids. Someone dragged him across the ground by his legs. His body was dropped to the ground. Several men towered above him. One of them smoked. Another one laughed. A third man rifled through his pockets, turning up a thin wallet. Kyosuke struggled to move, but he could not move; even his eyes were stuck shut.

Tanaka's scratched voice cut through them. "Show some respect. He fought until the end. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough."

The robber dropped the wallet on his chest. All the voices receded, leaving Kyosuke alone with Mr. Tanaka.

"You did what was necessary, as did I. I cannot criticize you, because I did the same for my daughter Shiori. I would have liked to share a drink with you, but this will have to do."

Cold metal pressed against his lips, and an equally cold liquid dribbled across his lower jaw. Tanaka left as well. The lights snapped off, leaving him in the quiet darkness. Kyosuke opened his eyes to high trusses that comprised the gymnasium ceiling. The cavernous space was sunk in shadows. The dead lay all around him. They sprawled side by side; their eyes had been closed in their cold repose. He could identify their faces. Strangely, he was not afraid. Kyosuke picked out a shock of curly hair lay next to an obese corpse, Komatsu and Hatta. They had been dropped in a tumbled embrace.

A gash across the throat, two gaping entry wounds through a youthful face, but in spite of their wounds, they all looked to be at peace. He found Akane. Her eyes were closed in solemn repose. The round face and slightly sunken cheeks seemed ceramic fragile. He wanted to grab and shake her out of her perfect stillness, but the rest of him was still paralyzed.

His eyes flicked around in panic, looking and searching for a face that he prayed he would not see. A name was ready to burst from his lips

Kyosuke sat up with a jerk in an entirely different room. The sun cut a sharp angle across a table in the middle of the room. An overturned basket of oranges lay on the ground. A smashed TV sat amid a wall full of stern black and white photos. Several portraits lay shattered on the ground.

A microphone's shriek caught Kyosuke's attention. The source of the noise was nearby, but he could not locate it.

"Hello, glad to see that you're alive," a dry voice greeted him. "I'm not really supposed to be talking to you, but sometimes one must bend the rules for the sake of fairness."

He leapt in place, the voice came from right next to him.

"Fairness?" Kyosuke rasped through his dry throat. "How is this fair?"

"Relax," Mr. Tanaka's voice answered. The voice came from his own body. Kyosuke found a hard ring around his neck. "Don't mess with the collar, that could kill you.

"To answer the question, fairness is evening the odds. After all, we are all equal under the Leader, and the Program is the great equalizer. Practically speaking, you've been treated with an experimental painkiller. How do you feel? It won't kill you to answer my question."

Other than his arm, he felt normal, which was much better than expected.

"OK, I guess," he answered cautiously.

"Good. It was developed by the SDF so that a soldier could fight at top condition even if he were at death's door. The drug also doubles as a coagulant. You just need to take the anti-coagulant at night or you'll probably suffer a massive stroke. Clinical trials have shown that the drug may cause infertility, liver failure, or death if taken for an extended period of time. Now on with the program."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Kyosuke demanded, but was ignored.

"Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the Great Leader's program," the microphone screeched with distortion again. Kyosuke did not react, because he already knew. "I'm sure that everyone is eager for the game to start, but I have some announcements to make.

"Please, do not move yet. If you stray too far from your current location, you will die. As you may have noticed, there is a collar fixed around each of your necks. This is essential for our little project, which I will get to in a moment," Tanaka announced as if he were a teacher talking about a field trip. "Right now, I just want everyone to get up and stretch.

"I'll know if you're slacking off. C'mon, lively now! That collar is set to monitor your pulse and temperature, so you'd better work up a sweat. We're going to do some jumping jacks. 1-2, 1-2."

Kyosuke considered joining in the calisthenics, but his thirst burned with full force once his initial surprise had passed. He scrambled to a fallen orange. He tore the fruit in halves and sucked at the mashed flesh. Sticky juice covered his chin.

"Settle down. We're already behind schedule after some unforseen delays," the hoarse voice continued. "The Program was formed forty years ago to strengthen the unity and the moral fiber of our great nation, our only nation. As participants in our program, you should feel proud to have been chosen."

Kyosuke tossed away the peel as he craned to listen closely.

"On to the rules. You probably have heard rumors, but these are the only rules that will matter to you.

"First, the goal is to be only the survivor. The participants must eliminate each other. If no one is eliminated in a twenty-four hour period, everyone is immediately disqualified. We will be announcing a running tally at the top of each hour.

"Second, equipment. There is a satchel on the outside of each door. There are some water, rations, a compass, and a map. The map is divided by zones. Different instruction may be given in later parts of the Program Session. Each bag also contains a GI-39 nine millimeter automatic pistol.

"This is the basic sidearm of our militia. It has nine rounds, simple to maintain, and rarely jams; it's an oldie, but a goodie Don't forget to chamber the first round, and put on your safety. Safety comes first. You should remember how to use this from middle school. If you didn't pass it, you shouldn't be in high school. There is also a random goody in each bag, use it well.

"Third, the playing field. Marked on your map are the boundaries. Passing a boundary will detonate the collar around your neck, resulting in immediate elimination. The sewers are also out of bounds. Also, gas and electricity have been cut off to this part of the city. Sorry, but trying to blow up a gas main is useless.

"Fourth, upgrades. Use whatever you can find. The Great Leader values resourcefulness. The map is marked with the location of better equipment that have been planted throughout the playing field.

"Fifth, active times. During each active hours, you must move at 10 meters away from where you started at the beginning of the hour. Moving five meters forward and then back will get you messily disqualified. Only horizontal distance counts. The Program will start in active hours. I will announce the beginning and end of resting hours.

"Finally, this Program is about heart and spirit. The things you learn will be useful later in life. That is, if you manage to survive. You should always strive to do your best, and, thereby, live to your full potential.

"The session starts in five minutes. Everyone, best of luck."

The mike squealed to a stop. Kyosuke scrubbed his sticky hands against his pants. The orange roiled in his belly. The talk of gun training unnerved him. Was everyone else that far ahead of him? He had handled a gun before, but he had been running on adrenaline. And Ayukawa had been beside him.

_Would they be forced to kill each other?_ the thought intruded. _No, he would free them from this nightmare. He had his Power._

Kyosuke darted to the door. After a moment's consideration, he peered through the windows. The streets were empty. He cracked opened the door. A dozen imagined stares weighed on him as he snatched the bag. He slammed the door close.

Kyosuke emptied the bag with trembling hands. The promised items were in the bag: three protein bars, a plastic bottle of water, a pistol a cheap compass, and a map. A rough plastic case lay on top of the pile. He awkwardly opened the clasped lid. Six needles lay in the spongy interior; they were the painkillers and anti-coagulants. He closed it and stowed the box in the bag with the rest of the gear.

Kyosuke checked the gun as he had seen in the movies. The clip slid out and hit the floor with a clatter. After the second try, he managed to chamber a round. He awkwardly flicked off the safety with his cast, aimed at the picture of a youthful soldier, and squeezed the trigger. The gun shot rang deafeningly through the small room. He missed, but he couldn't waste anymore bullets. Kyosuke tried to switch on the safety with an ounce of Power.

His will passed through the metal. Kyosuke focused on an orange. There was no reaction, no matter how many time he tried. The same with teleportation; he couldn't generate the buoyant feeling. Panic seized him. As far back as Kyosuke could remember, his Power had been as automatic as seeing or walking. It had been his mother's gift to him.

The solemn soldier's portrait stared at him. A young woman looked out of the adjacent portrait. The determined look on her face reminded him of Ayukawa. Kyosuke swiped the safety switch against his cast. He silently asked the faces to look over them. He needed find Ayukawa. He needed to move or become rooted by the fear spreading through him.

The boy peered through the cracked door. The way still looked clear, and with his pounding like a jackhammer, Kyosuke tore the door open and charged into the street.


	10. Opening Moves

Hitokiri Orange Road

10. Opening Moves

Kyosuke's feet struck the pavement in the same heavy rhythm as his chest. He moved with his best impression of a cop from an American TV drama, ducking in the alleyways between the mass produced homes and kneeling behind abandoned cars. A dark shape flickered at the corner of his eye. Kyosuke dove between a pair of houses.

The boy waited for the attacker to round the corner with his gun blazing. The chill cinderblock echoed his rapid heartbeat as he waited. No one came.

"No good, this is no good," the boy gasped. "What if that was Ayukawa?"

He peeked around the corner and saw the back of a schoolboy's uniform disappear down the block. Kyosuke looked at the distance that he had covered and despaired. His starting point was still in sight.

Kyosuke peeled his trembling fingers from the boxy pistol to fumble awkwardly for his water bottle. After a few tries, he managed to trap the bottle between his cast and ribs and unscrew it with his good hand. Several gulps of the tepid water helped to ease the tightness in his chest.

He pulled open the map. The in-bound region enclosed a rough oval area centered around the high school. Several symbols dotted the map: red daggers represented weapons, green crosses were medical items, and yellow symbols were miscellaneous equipment. The equipment densified toward the school and the park in front of the school.

Kyosuke snuck to the mouth of the alley and located himself on the map with a street sign. The park was five blocks in the direction that the other boy headed. The map could have been printed in a video game magazine, and if it were a game, the players would head toward the center to get the most power-ups. He reasoned that Ayukawa would head into the heart of the action. As long as he had known her, she never backed down from a fight. He picked a path to avoid the other boy.

He repacked and slung his bag over his left shoulder. The boy gulped several deep breaths before darting from the alley. The alley opened onto another narrow street of cookie-cutter houses. Through the first block, he took cover at every house, but that took too long, so he skipped one house and then two at a time. He rounded a corner and followed another street. A four lane intersection brought him to a dead stop. He flattened against a cinderblock wall in anticipation of an ambush.

The lights blinked in their fixed timing, unfazed by the stillness. The way seemed empty. Kyosuke pried a chunk of loose cinderblock from the wall and lobbed it into the road. The cinderblock clattered with a small sound in the wide street. He rushed across the street, doubled over his gun. The only sound was of his pounding feet.

Kyosuke scampered down another half of a block before the pop-pop of gunfire resounded through the streets. He ran toward an open gate in front of a house. Just inside of the threshold, a black uniformed student stood with an automatic in his trembling hands. The other boy was topped by curly red hair, and his bulging eyes scanned about wildly.

On the other side, Kyosuke had moved often to escape their neighbors' suspicion about their powers. When his family finally settled down, Komatsu and his large friend Hatta had been the first guys to become his friends. They had eaten together, laughed together, and torn the shrink wrap off of innumerable girly magazines together. Now, Komatsu stood before him with a pistol shaking uncontrollably in his hands.

"K-Komatsu," Kyosuke pleaded. "It's me, Kyosuke."

"W-who the hell are you?" Komatsu yelled.

Though Kyosuke's head realized that this was a different Komatsu, he still froze at the sight of his best friend aiming a gun at him. Kyosuke belatedly dove to the ground as a poorly aimed shot zipped over his head. He frantically scrambled back to his feet. Two more shots flew wide.

"Get him Hatta!" Komatsu screeched.

Gun fire rang out from above Kyosuke. A fat boy with thick square glasses stood in the second story of the house across the street. Another bullet whizzed past him from the red head's direction.

Kyosuke dropped his bag and rushed toward the open gate under Hatta's vantage point. Komatsu's gun barked out after him. A dry click sounded from the red-head's gun. Kyosuke turned around and pulled his trigger. His safety was on. He flicked it off with his cast.

The delay gave Komatsu enough time to catch up with him. The red-head abandoned the spent pistol and drew his survival knife. Kyosuke fired. A dark spot blossomed at Komatsu's belly, but his attacker's desperation persevered. Kyosuke slammed in the ground with Komatsu landing on top. Komatsu pinned Kyosuke's gun hand to the ground and stabbed downward with his knife.

Kyosuke desperately parried with his cast. He got a part of his attacker's arm with his cast. The knife tip stapled through his ear. The boy punched awkwardly and managed to jam his cast into Komatsu's eye, but the red head hung on. The knife descended again, but Kyosuke managed to deflect the blow to the pavement.

"Damn you, damn you," Komatsu grated between grunts. He was mottled purple. Sweat glistened on his forehead. "Hatta, help me! Hatta, get your ass down here!"

Komatsu's lips twisted into a cold smile as heavy steps pounded down the stairs. The front door flung open to reveal the fat student. Hatta gasped from the exertion. Kyosuke tossed and bucked with all of his strength as Hatta aimed.

A loud blast exploded. Kyosuke clenched his body at the expected impact. The bullet never struck. Instead, Komatsu stiffened; his mouth worked dumbly as dark blood welled at his forehead. Warm droplets splattered across Kyosuke's face. Hatta froze.

Kyosuke pulled his gun hand from Komatsu's slack grip. He used both hand to aim from his back and pulled the trigger again and again. Hatta convulsed as three impacts blossomed across the wide expanse of his chest. The heavy boy collapsed backwards through the open door.

Kyosuke levered Komatsu off and grimly took aim at Hatta. He hesitated for a moment until his former friend unsteadily raise his gun. Kyosuke fire until the pistol clicked dryly. One bullet tore through Hatta's nose. The next tore the glasses off of the moon-round face. His right eye disappear in a plume of gore as glass shrapnel and the twisted frame clattered to the ground. Hatta's head fell back onto the tile floor, flooding the foyer with blood.

"It's OK, it's OK," Kyosuke mumbled. He held his ear, which stung vaguely through the pain killers.

His stomach roiled at the smell of blood and spent gunpowder. Komatsu's blood anointed Kyosuke's brow and soiled shirt. The boy stumbled to the corner of the enclosed yard where the sour taste of bile flooded his mouth. Komatsu and Hatta were dead, and he had killed them.

"They weren't the same," Kyosuke argued. Each time he pushed away the images, they came back to him. "They tried to kill me, they tried to kill me," he repeated to himself.

His guts kicked with dry convulsions. He bent over, waiting to purge everything from inside of himself, but nothing came out.

Kyosuke unbent with some effort and retrieved his bag. The queasy feeling lingered, but he could move. He poured water over his face, wiped up as best as he could, and swallowed the remaining mouthful of tepid water. In front of the house, Komatsu's empty eyes stared blankly at the sky. The sight made the boy's skin crawl. Kyosuke draped his stained kerchief over the ruined face.

The corpse still held onto the survival knife. Kyosuke knelt to pull the knife from the body's slack fingers.

A/N: Revised thank to causeiambetta's tips. Thanks. 07-28-07.


	11. Life by Lead cont'd

**Hitokiri Orange Road**

**Chapter 11. Life by Lead cont'd**

The sky hemorrhaged as evening fell.

"Ayukawa! Tendo!" Kyosuke yelled down the darkening street.

A girl in a dark uniform spun around. She was neither. Fear was clearly written on her face. She squeezed off a poorly aimed shot, sending the boy diving to the ground. There was no reason for him to follow as she scampered between a pair of grim tenements.

The boy jogged farther down the two lane street. The front of his gakuren was open, to ventilate his sweaty undershirt. Halfway down the street, a convenience store stood gaping open. The front door was shattered. His water bottle was low, and the dryness scoured his throat. The boy licked his lips at the thought of cold tea and food. He shook away the thought, there might be someone or an entire group already inside.

Tendo seemed to be too straight-laced to break and enter, while Ayukawa would find a more graceful way in, so he reasoned that he would not find either girl inside.

Kyosuke doubled back up the street, occasionally checking behind him, then sidled down an alley. Near the far end of the darkened way, Kyosuke nearly stumbled over a classmate crouched over a rifle.

Kyosuke had forgotten the boy's name. He hid from the street behind a discarded washing machine. In place of his uniform were form-fitting black pullover and dark jeans . A black, yarn hat was firmly pulled over his head. Kyosuke lifted his pistol. The safety was already off.

Kyosuke briefly considered putting a bullet through the back of the boy's head, but he could not pull the trigger in cold blood. Instead, he planned to declare a stick-up, demand his weapons, then slip away. Just as Kyosuke opened his mouth to speak, someone emerged from the building across the street. It was a girl in a dark uniform. She had short hair. It could have been Tendo.

The rifleman took aim.

"Get down!" Kyosuke yelled.

The rifleman turned toward him. A shot echoed in the narrow alley. The pistol was already in position and went off faster. The rifleman stared at the wet chest growing on his chest. He then looked up dumbly at Kyosuke. Kyosuke pulled the trigger again, then a second, and a third time. The rifleman's body jerked with each shot until he fell spread-eagle to the pavement.

Kyosuke's ears rang in the ensuing silence. A youthful, fresh face, that could have easily been placed in a junior high, stared up glassily. Kyosuke looked out onto the street. The girl lay flat on cracked asphalt with a tall boy crouched over her. Kyosuke trained his gun on the boy.

"Tendo?" Kyosuke called out.

"Kasuga-kun?" Akane called from the ground. "Are you OK?"

"Yes, are you?"

"Yeah, I'm OK. This is Umao. Put the gun down! He's a friend," Akane projected.

Umao put away his gun, so Kyosuke followed suit.

"OK, one moment," Kyosuke said.

The boy turned his attention back to the corpse. He scooped up the rifle. He slipped his own pistol into a holster. With his teeth gritted, Kyosuke searched the body. The boy's unblinking eyes began to bother him, so Kyosuke shut them. Kyosuke's skin crawled as he touched the warm body, but he was able to work quickly. It was easier to take from the dead this time.

The quick search produced another standard issue pistol and two clips of ammo. He already had three knives, but he put the fourth in his sack in case Tendo could use it. A double bound plastic bag lay next to him. It was filled with instant food and bottled drinks. The rifleman had probably burgled the store that was nearby.

By the time he finished the inventory, Akane had reached the mouth of the alley. Her hands went to her mouth. One hand held a boxy pistol. Kyosuke went to wipe his face, but inadvertently smeared blood across his brow.

Akane took out a kerchief and wiped it off.

"Kyosuke, how could you?" Akane admonished in a subdued voice.

"Sorry," Kyosuke apologized, but he still held the bag and rifle as he stood.

"Tendo-san, it's the Program," the tall boy said. "We all must do things that we normally wouldn't do to survive.

"Thank you for your help," the stranger continued. "He probably would have picked us off if you hadn't warned us. My name is Umao."

Beneath the tall boy's arm was a heavy automatic handgun. Another weapon was holstered at leg. Beneath the holster was a neatly tied bandage.

"Kasuga Kyosuke," Kyosuke took his hand, but kept his other on the rifle.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen a girl, would you? She's about Tendo's height with shoulder-length wavy hair."

He looked crestfallen as Kyosuke shook his head.

"I'm looking for her," Umao said. "I told Tendo that I would team up until I found her."

"And then?" Kyosuke asked.

"Then we try to find a way out," Umao said. "For all of us. A way out one way or another."

Akane gave a quick nod, when Kyosuke looked her way.

Kyosuke held out his hand again. "Truce?"

Umao shook it firmly again. Kyosuke might not have trusted the athletic boy, but Akane seemed to trust him.

As the sun fell beneath the horizon, large shapes arose from between the buildings. They looked like monstrous eggs, shedding oblong shadows over the town. Four weather balloons rose over the city. The now-familiar screech echoed across the still streets.

"Hello there, everybody," the suit began in a dry voice. "We could address you by your collars, but the sound might give away your positions to each other, and that wouldn't be fair.

"In any case, I hope that you are all doing well. That is, everyone except for Kazushi, Hatta, Komatsu, Tanaka. There have been four participants eliminated so far. Surprisingly, three were eliminated by one person. There are 26 participants remaining. You've all been busy, please keep up the good work.

"Now for my other announcement. Daytime hours will end in one hour. While you are free to move within the field of play during night time hours, you can also stay put during these hours. After all, you're still growing and need your rest to become healthy adults."

The message dissolved into a shrill scream, leaving only the cold wind its wake.


	12. A Brief Sanctuary

**Hitokiri Orange Road**

**12. A Brief Sanctuary**

Umao showed Kyosuke how to load, unjam, and aim the rifle. Kyosuke had his hand one of his pistols the entire time that the taller boy handled the gun. Once he got the long gun back, Kyosuke tucked the stock beneath his arm, where he sweated despite the cold night. Six rounds were stored in a groove carved into the wooden stock. One bullet was already chambered in the weapon.

Kyosuke guarded the rear of the trio. He stole glances over his shoulder. Akane sidled behind a fence as Umao tried another door. The lanky boy managed to jimmy the lock without damaging it this time.

Umao ducked before shoving the door open. He flicked on a plastic flashlight, swiveling it next to his pistol as he advanced. Akane followed with her weapon drawn. Her face was white. She stayed in the doorway, while the tall boy crept from room to room. His footsteps creaked up the stairs, followed by the sounds of doors opening.

Akane flicked her fingers for Kyosuke to enter. The boy swept the street, behind the black bar of the gun sight, then stepped into the foyer. He quietly locked the door behind him.

"Sorry to intrude," Kyosuke whispered reflexively.

He felt vaguely uncomfortable keeping his shoes on, but the disgorged drawers and cabinets assuaged his guilt. After conferring with his fellows, Kyosuke scouted around the house a second time, making sure that the windows and doors were closed and locked. When he descended from the second floor, he found Umao and Akane sitting in a room at the back of the house. The heavy curtains had been drawn.

A portable heater radiated warm waves from the middle of the room. A kettle sat on its top. It emanated thin slashes of red light that cut down Akane's face. They had spread out three futons on the artificial tatami mats: two for the guys on one side of the heater and one on the other for Akane.

Kyosuke made his way to the nearest futon and fell heavily on the inviting softness. He heaved a sigh as the heat washed over him.

Akane gave a muffled giggle.

"What's so funny?" Kyosuke muttered.

"Nothing much. It just struck me that it feels like a field trip. This situation seems so unreal," Akane said.

"I heard that's how they got some classes, by taking them on a field trip then gassing them to sleep. That way, they can drive them to the battle site," Umao responded. He grunted as he stretched out. "That's right, you weren't there, were you? I remember that the guys from the government were talking about you three with the teacher."

Kyosuke sat bolt upright, which sent a twinge of pain through his side. His intuition told him to hide the truth. He beat Akane to the explanation.

"They corralled us later," Kyosuke mentally cursed his tense laughter. "What did they, I mean the government suits, do to you?"

"The teacher led us to the gym for vaccinations. They said that there was a nasty strain of avian flu making the rounds. After we got the jabs, we became so sleepy that we couldn't move. The next thing that I knew, I woke up with this fashion statement," Umao said with a tug at his metal collar.

"They gave us some shots, too," Kyosuke said as he volunteered his arm for inspection. "The nurse wasn't too gentle with it."

"They should have asked Tendo to do it," Umao rejoined with a weak laugh.

Kyosuke joined the boy's lame laughter. Kyosuke felt another twinge of pain in his abdomen. "Please excuse me, I've got to go to the WC."

Kyosuke carried his bag with him to the bathroom. He kept his flashlight low to keep the light from flashing out of a window. After entering the restroom, the boy set a pistol on the edge of the washbasin and closed the door.

He turned on a trickle of water. Without the gas, it was icy, but still felt good to clean his face. He pulled off his shirt. A deep band of black and blue ran across his body. Tanaka's droning warning came back to him. The painkiller needed to anti-coagulant to offset the increased clotting. Kyosuke found the package at the bottom of his bag. The instructions were still intact.

Despite the blood that he had recently seen and the mayhem he had experienced, the boy still found it difficult to pierce himself. Instead of his arm, he decided to try his leg. He sat over the toilet and managed to find a large vessel. On a three count, he managed to get the needle in and push the plunger. He pulled it out carefully, using a wad of sandy toilet paper to absorb the spot of dark blood.

After attending to his other his business, he cleaned up the evidence and descended the stairs to rejoin his fellow inmates. As soon as he entered the room, Umao rose to use the loo. Akane handed him a mug of hot tea and a rice ball. He took both gratefully.

"Why did you lie to him?" Akane mouthed to Kyosuke once he sat down.

Kyosuke had been working from intuition before, but the reasoning caught up readily. "Think about it, what if you were in his shoes? How would you feel if he had tried to escape and left you out?"

"Not very good," Akane sighed.

"You aren't going to tell him are you?"

Akane shook her head. "Not now, after what you've said."

Akane was honest girl. Her face plainly said that she hated to lie. Kyosuke wasn't fond of it either and decided to change the subject. Before he could, Umao had returned, and Akane took her turn upstairs.

Kyosuke dug into his food, while the rangy boy lay with his head in his hands.

"She's a nice girl, isn't she?"

"I guess," Kyosuke answered uncertainly.

"She reminds me of Ushiko. Then again, all girls start to remind me of her. Or rather I start seeing parts of Ushiko in other girls. Or something like that."

"Ushiko, that's the girl that you're trying to look for, right?"

"Yes, you've got a good memory," Umao flashed him a white smile. "I guess that we tempted fate back then."

"What do you mean by that?" Kyosuke asked.

"It's a long story, so you might not want to hear it."

Kyosuke found that we wanted to keep talking, even if it was just babble. The lapses of silence were forbidding and filled of night sounds. Each sound could have been a footfall of an assailant creeping toward the house or even upstairs.

"How about this, if I start snoring, you can stop," though Kyosuke noted to himself that he wasn't going to fall asleep first.

"Sounds fine by me," Umao agreed cheerfully. "This was during my last year in middle school. It was actually around this time of year, miserable weather and all."


End file.
